Ihad to give it to military wives, and anyone else in this position–long distance wasrough. The space between visits was an exercise in patience, a shuffle between practicing the art of distraction and creating countdown calendars anticipating our next time together.
January was busy with work, and I picked up extra shifts when I could. Keeping busy seemed to be the best way to make the time pass more quickly. I started volunteering at the local nursing home once a week, too, where I met a lovely octogenarian named Gloria.
Gloria loved listening to me talk about all the important people in my life—Whit and her design business, Owen’s amazing food, my mom’s recent promotion, how Ivy was learning to stand. And of course, the incredibly hot surfer-firefighter with whom I was currently having a long-distancelove affair, which Gloria deemed “juicy and romantic—even better than the movies.”
I found myself opening up to her more than I did to most strangers, probably because she was so grandmotherly and easy to talk to. In exchange for my stories Gloria gave me all the latest gossip from the nursing home, including some very scandalous, soap-opera-worthy love triangles. Some days we played Scrabble, and she beat me each time with her exceptional vocabulary. I hoped I’d be half as cool as Gloria when I reached her age.
By February I had deemed myself Aunt Brooke, the official party-planner-extraordinaire for little Ivy Jane’s first birthday. “One happy little camper” was the theme Whit and I chose, and I had a very detailed Pinterest board full of ideas. The theme played on the idea of Ivy turning one, and I decided we’d be turning our tiny backyard into a camping oasis, making s’mores and other camping-themed snacks. Hopefully the temperamental March weather would cooperate.
Whit put her graphic design skills to use designing the invitations and party decor. By the time Cade’s flight landed at the airport, everything was in place.
Cade arrived Saturday, and the party was scheduled for Sunday. He’d be flying back out a few hours after the party, so once again we had to make the most of our short visit. We spent the afternoon catching up with Whit, then Cade and I went out for dinner.
“I have a secret,” I confided across the table as we finished our meal. My hands were extended across the table and he held them, running his thumb across the back of one.
“Tell me,” he grinned. There was that dimple I’d fallen for so many years ago.
“It’s more something—I have to show you,” I explained, being purposefully coy.
“Consider me intrigued. Very intrigued.” He caught the waiter’s attention. “Check, please.”
“Have fun?”Whit asked as we entered the duplex after dinner.
“Mmhmm,” I confirmed, holding Cade’s hand in mine and grinning. I loved that no matter how long we were apart, our connection was instant the moment we touched again. Under different circumstances, I pictured us spending many nights in our sweats, relaxing on this couch, enjoying movie nights with Whit. I sighed, once again wishing our situation was simpler.
Cade wrapped his arm around my shoulders, reaching down and ruffling Ivy’s soft hair. “Now I need to put Auntie Brooke to bed,” he told her. “She’s got a big party to throw tomorrow.”
He threw a wink to Whit, and we escaped down the hallway.
“So—you have a surprise for me?” he asked, as soon as we were shut inside my bedroom.
I nodded. “You have to find it, though.”
“I see—hm. I do like a good challenge.” He kissed my cheek, then lifted the hair off the back of my neck. “Back here?” he mused, kissing his way across my shoulders.
“Nu-uh,” I murmured, my skin already heating up.
He circled me fully, then faced me again. He brought me in for a deep kiss, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “Under here?”
I shook my head.
“Best to be sure,” he said seriously, and I giggled as he pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it beside us on the floor. He tapped his finger on his chin, walking around me in a circle again.
“So far, everything looks familiar,” he continued in his mock-serious tone. “Where, oh where, could my sweet Brooke be hiding something?”
I eyed him, toying with the button on my jeans suggestively.
“Last I checked, that—” he glanced down below my waist, “wasn’t a secret from me. Not anymore at least.”
His hands replaced mine as he took over, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down my hips and off my legs.
“Warmer,” I encouraged him, and his fingers found the sides of my underwear.
“Hot,” he confirmed, kissing me and sliding them off.
When they hit the floor, I watched his eyes, determined to catch his reaction as he saw it—on my hip bone, a colorful tattoo. Two golden sunflowers with dark brown centers, side by side, nestled in a bed of leaves that spread out on either side. The design was small enough to be mostly hidden under the bikini-style undies I favored, but it spread in height from my hipbone towards the crease of my upper thigh.
“Mm,” he whispered appreciatively. “Beautiful.” His eyes met mine. “What made you want to get this?”
