Page 113 of Last Letters to Ara
Save me a slice of chocolate cake.
I’ll have the perfect ratio of vanilla ice cream ready.
Love,
Dad
I can’t tell you when the tears started, but they continue to flow freely as I read his last line and close my eyes, wishing for all that I’m worth that he was here to share this day with me.
Gently laying the letter down on my coffee table, I ensure there are no stray liquids waiting to ruin it at the first sign of contact, and reach for the big box. It’s slightly too heavy to slide it toward me easily, so I wiggle my way to the very edge of the couch and begin pulling the paper away.
My hands meet my mouth in a gasp as I take in the picture on the box. It’s not justanysewing machine. Not only is it the best brand on the market, but it’s equipped with every feature I’d ever need, but my dad didn’t stop there. This is one of the special editions, a beautiful hand-painted baby blue with colorful paisley.
It’s beautiful. A work of art on its own.
Taking a moment, or maybe thirty, I let myself absorb how much his letter and gift mean to me. I soak it up, let my heart swell and crack before standing from the couch, pushing the box toward my design room and unpacking my new machine.
I’ve just finished setting up my new baby on its throne when I hear a knock on my door.
This time, I check through the peephole having genuinely no idea who it could be, and instantly wish I’d decided to parade around my house in nothing but lingerie that I don’t own. My stomach erupts and the breath whooshes out of me as I open the door and see Theo for the first time in over a month.
For a moment we just stand there, looking at each other. His eyes are bright, one side of his mouth is pulled up in a smirk. I can tell he’s just come out of the shower, still smelling of shampoo and body wash. My heart begins slamming against my ribs, like it’s a prisoner begging someone to open its cell door.
Theo looks me up and down.Ready.
His smirk turns to a grin.Set.
“Surprise.”Go.
I launch into his arms.
I’d always wished to be tiny, short, and petite. Not that I was considered particularly tall at my 5’7”, but I alwaysfelttall. Taller than the boys in my class. Not skinny. Not curvy. But in Theo’s arms, fitting him perfectly, I don’t wish to change a thing.
Theo’s arm comes down, cradling my ass and carrying my weight as the other slides up my waist, my ribs, my neck, my cheek, and pulls my face to his.
I’ve worried that I’d forgotten how to kiss since the last time I saw him at the airport, saying goodbye before he took off to his first destination, but I know how silly I’ve been when he moans, as if he’s finally taken a breath after near suffocation.
Theo pulls back, kissing over my freckles, my nose, my chin, my neck. “You couldn’t possibly know how much I’ve missed you.”
“I think I do.” My voice literally squeaks, full of giddiness. I didn’t think I was going to get to see him for another few days.
Theo trails kisses back up to my mouth, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, before kissing me again and pulling my hips tighter to his. I’m about to ask him to take me right here, not bothering to enter my apartment, when poor old Melvin clears his throat aggressively.
“This is common property,” he scolds.
We break away from our kiss, and I smile against Theo’s lips as he doesn’t bother acknowledging my neighbor before he carries me inside, kicking the door shut behind him. We make it to the counter before he sets me down, pulling me up against him so my thighs are spread as far as they can go and his hands are under my shirt, gripping my ribcage.
Why is that so hot? My ribcage? Lady parts, explain yourself.
This is my favorite version of Theo, the one where he doesn’t ask permission. There will be no reasoning as Theo lifts my shirt above my head, letting out a groan as he gets a view of the goods. Little goods, but they’re there.
A moan escapes my mouth, and he swallows it whole. I pull back, leaning on my elbow against the counter, and pressing one hand against his chest as he tries to close the distance between our lips again. Theo’s eyes darken as I push him back and sit up with him, pulling off his shirt and leaving it discarded somewhere on the kitchen floor next to mine.
I want to look and touch and feel everything I’ve been craving.
Starting at his cheek bones, I trace them and the rest of his beautiful facial structure, which was one of the first things I noticed about him. I go over his jawline, cut like marble yet soft to the touch. Theo swallows as my fingers come down the column of his throat and chest.
My hands become determined as they roam every inch of his frustratingly dip-filled stomach. I lose count as I trace over muscle after muscle, leading down to the V on each side, as they tense and retract. My eyes memorize every inch of his skin, a few shades lighter than my own, as I go down, down, down.
