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THIRTY
SCAR
Maverick's gift was an unexpected surprise, but the sentiment behind his words made me feel something profound inside. Holding it in my hands, I couldn't help but think of how well Maverick knew me and how much he meant to me. The weight of his gift was more than just the physical object - it was a symbol of our relationship and the depth of our connection.
I unlock the front door to find a set of brown curls and sky-blue eyes peeking over the wall that separates the living room and kitchen.
His eyes go wide at me. "You’re back!" my three-year-old son squeals as he runs into the room and throws himself into my arms, almost making me stumble backward.
"Hey, little monster," I say as I squeeze him into a hug. He keeps his little arms wrapped around my waist and peers up at me with a bright smile. I brush his curls away from his face to get a better look.
"You're still small and squishy since I last saw you this morning." I hold him close to my chest, swaying back and forth.
"I'm not small. I'm this tall!" He pulls away and points above his head.
"Okay, buddy. You're not small anymore." I kiss his cheek.
Shaun laughs and wipes my kiss from his cheek.
I turn back to my son while attached to my hip.
"I love you," I tell him.
"You promise?" he asks in a whisper.
"I pinky promise." We entwine our pinkies, and I give him one last bear hug.
* * *
After dinner, I spend most of the day watching the Avengers movie with my son. Two buckets of popcorn and a bag of Sour Patch Kids later, we crash on the couch with Shaun's head tucked underneath my armpit. I carry my son into his room, set him down on his race car bed, and kiss him goodnight.
As I finish locking up the house, I approach my room, pushing the door slightly ajar as I enter. The soft glow of my bedside lamp illuminates the room, and I take a deep breath, feeling my body relax. After a refreshing shower, I slip into clean pajamas and settle in front of a blank canvas. I put in one earbud and press play on Cody Fry's "Find My Way." My voice joins in softly with the music as I sit down in front of a blank canvas. With each stroke of the paintbrush, I let my emotions guide me, creating a masterpiece that reflects my innermost thoughts and feelings. Lost in thought, I am suddenly jolted by the sound of the window sliding open as a chilly breeze sweeps into the room.
I jerk to my feet and grab the first thing I see that could be used as a weapon. As my heart pounds in my chest, a wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm me. But I push it down.
One lean, muscular leg clad in gray sweats and a black Vans shoe tears through my window. I panic, but before I can scream, Maverick's strong hand covers my mouth as he turns my body and pulls me against him with my back against his chest.
He whispers in my ear, "Relax. It's just me."
I swore he lightly kissed the side of my ear. As soon as he releases me, I turn around and swat his chest.
"What the hell, Maverick? What are you doing?" I whisper yell.
A grown-ass man with a body sculpted to perfection climbs through my window like a teenager.
"Why couldn't you just use the front door? And why are you here anyway? It's…" I turn to see it's 11:58 at night.
He looks me up and down when the moon shines through the window, providing dim illumination. His eyes travel down to my shorts that sit low at the waist, showing lots of skin. I look down to see my nipples trying to cut their way through my cami. I cover my chest with my arms, but the rest of my body is exposed.
He groans and looks away. "Um…" He clears his throat. "Your birthday ends in two minutes, and I wanted to give you your second gift."
"Maverick…"
He bends down and picks up a picture frame of me and Shaun. "Really, Scar? You chosethisas a weapon?" A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest.
"Gimme that." I snatch the frame and toss it on the bed.
I take the gift with trembling hands, my heart racing with anticipation. I slowly and carefully open the flap, my breath catches in my throat, and my hand instinctively covers my mouth.
