Page 34 of All Snowed Gin

He winks, kisses me softly, and thrusts up into me again. I laugh, kissing him harder, wiggling my hips against him. Only problem, the table wiggles with me. Pierce thrusts again and that’s all it takes.

Crash.

The two of us collapse, right along with the table, landing on it with a hard, loud thud. Pain thrums through me, a sharp juxtaposition to the pleasure I’d just been feeling.

“Fuck.”

I look at Pierce, his face twisted in a mix of pain and anger. It’s then it hits me—this would have been his grandparents’ table. Oh shit.

“I’m so sorry!” I cry, guilt taking over. “This was—”

“Yeah,” he cuts me off. Rolling off me, he separates our bodies, with me groaning, not wanting him to go. “Gramps built it for Gram when they were first married.”

“Pierce, I’m so sorry, I—”

“No. I put you on the table. This is on me.”

His words aren’t reassuring the way they’re supposed to be. My heart breaks knowing that I am partly responsible for this. Pierce reaches forward and grabs one of the legs, examining it. It looks solid and steady, and up until a moment ago, I never would have believed anything else. Flipping it to look at the bottom of it, Pierce scowls. But something catches my eye.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A table leg.”

“No. Inside it.” I point to the top of the leg and the little bit of yellow sticking out. “It looks like paper…”

Taking a closer look, Pierce manages to grab ahold of a corner and pulls out a rolled-up piece of yellow paper. Unfurling it, his eyes scan the page, lips turning upward into a smile. Then he laughs.

A deep, happy laugh. One that sets my soul on fire.

“If you’re reading this, the third time with wood glue was not the charm,” Pierce reads out loud. “Maybe try listening to your wife and using better screws. Just never stop screwing her against the table. You still got it, old man.”

He looks at me as he passes the note, tears in his eyes. My heart squeezing, I read it over again, noting that it was dated two summers ago.

“Gramps?”

“Told you he was a character. And that their love for each other was something else.”

I nod, loving the way he talks about them. “I still feel bad we broke it. But at least we carried on tradition?”

Pierce guffaws, a happy tear escaping. “That we did. Meatballs and a broken table. Hell of a tradition.” Turning to me, he smiles, that look returning to his eyes. “How about we take tradition to the shower and get cleaned up.”

“Yes, please.”

14

PIERCE

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The thunderously loud noise raises me from my sleep. I don’t remember drifting off. The last thing I knew, Rose and I were curled around each other, a tangle of limbs, our bodies doing all the talking. Considering I’m still wrapped around her, both of us still naked, it stands to reason that we never made it any further than that.

Bang!

Alright…alright…

I unfurl myself from Rose, careful not to wake her. She looks like an angel, her soft brown hair splayed out on the pillow, her perfect breasts rising and falling gently with her even breaths, a serene smile on her face. Fuck, is she beautiful. Inside and out. Because it was going to take a special soul to un-grumpy my ass this weekend. And that’s exactly what she did.

Throwing on the first pair of pants and sweater I can find, I amble toward the door, barely glancing at the mess we left in the kitchen. We finished up the meatballs—but only barely—and ate them in bed as we watched the original Miracle on 34th Street. We did manage to keep our hands off each other during the movie—for the most part—since Rose insisted that we couldn’t sully an innocent classic like that. She made a good point, but I told her that once the credits rolled, all bets were off, and there wouldn’t be anything innocent for the rest of the night.