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maevefiction · 6 years ago
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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 21
A gentle tugging at my left nipple and a heavy but strangely soothing heat on my pelvis lifted me slowly from my slumber. I tried to open my eyes several times, first one, then the other, finally managing to coordinate and get both un-shut at the same time so I could actually see. The room was dim, the only light source the street lamps from outside, spilling in over the top and out from the sides of the curtains. I lifted my right arm, and it felt like I was moving through water. As my hand hit something solid and warm, the tugging at my nipple ceased and Tom’s face rose into view. I waved at him, fingers bending toward my wrist and thumb pointed out, as if I were a small child.
He smiled, voice hushed. “Hello, beautiful.”
I wiped the drool from my mouth with the back of my hand, speech still slurred from sleep. “Finished?”
His voice in my ear as he ground against me. “Actually, I’m just getting started.”
My legs moved as if they had a mind of their own, sliding out from under his, falling open and wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed and heels resting on his ass.
I tapped his shoulder. “Start you. Now. Can.”
He chuckled, then moaned as he worked himself inside me, rooting deeper and deeper until I felt his balls nestled against my skin. His mouth found mine, kissing me until I could barely breathe. We pulled away from each other momentarily, then resumed, repeating the process as he rocked gently into me, undulating his hips. When I finally joined in the dance, he sped up slightly, pulling almost fully out and pushing back in, cock lingering to rub against my walls just enough to drive me mad with want, but not enough to make me come.
I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed, my words jumbled by more than just sleepiness. “Fast. Er. Faster. Hard. You.”
He shook his head and whispered. “Not yet.”
I whined, and he shifted, resting his weight on one arm as he moved the other so his hand could reach my mound. He rubbed the outer lips, circling with the base of his palm, smiling in the faint light as my whine morphed into a throaty grunt of pleasure. I lost track of time as he continued, his pace remaining the same, until he dipped his finger into my wetness and found my clit. My fingernails dug into his back as the orgasm washed over me, waves of pleasure starting at my core and rippling out to finally reach the tips of my fingers and toes, like a rock thrown into a still pond. He began thrusting hastily, rubbing my nub vigorously, mouth on mine once again, rhythmically sucking on my tongue. I felt his balls draw up, the only sound in the room him whimpering into my open mouth as he came. I moved my legs down so they were twined around his thighs for leverage and rode him until I climaxed again, this one short but so powerful that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out and waking everyone in the building.
He collapsed on top of me. “Worth waking up for?”
I nodded drowsily. “Yah. Betcha.”
I could feel him grinning against my chest, and he rose up on his elbows. “Maude?”
I patted his cheek. “Mmm.”
“You were very, very wet when I woke you. Soaking. Sopping, even. Were you, perchance, having naughty dreams?”
I grabbed his jaw and shook it as I nodded again. “You. Lestat. Hot. Too much sexy. May die if happens. Bastard.”
He laughed. “You are irresistibly adorable when you’re half asleep.” He lifted himself off me, got up and stood at the side of the bed, holding his hand out to me. “Bathroom?”
I grumbled at the prospect, but knew I should take care of business if I wanted to sleep well. He escorted me to the bowl, guided me as I sat, helped me off when I was done, then walked me back to bed.
“Here you are, my love. I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead and went back in to the bathroom. I squinted at the clock. It read 3:30. I meant to tell him I was impressed with his speed reading skills but was asleep again before he returned to me.
****************************************
All of our Tuesday was spent addressing things we’d either been neglecting or needed to take care of before we left the city on Friday. I found a full service laundry and dropped off our combined pile of clothes before we stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast, then found a real estate agent willing to meet us at the house immediately. After apologizing profusely for what she was about to endure within, we toured the property with her. Upon inspecting the garage, we discovered it was filled to the brim with boxes, and that the former servant’s quarters above it had been converted into a recording studio. There were more guitars, a drum set, keyboards…the works. The agent’s on the spot appraisal based on local comps was seven hundred and fifty thousand as is, with a tentative value of at least a million if I painted, changed out all the fixtures, and converted the kitchen/bar area back into a kitchen and dining room with either a classic or modern theme, depending upon my taste and aligned with the look I chose for the rest of the home. The recording studio might attract a buyer, but she thought it would be better if I took out all the equipment and billed it as ready to finish space, or, preferably, turn it back into an apartment. I asked about having someone come in to clean up and hold an estate sale on my behalf, explaining I couldn’t be there in person, and she said she had a company she preferred to work with and would forward their contact info later on in the day.
I phoned Barty and asked him to email the loan holder information and balance due to me, and when it arrived I phoned the company and advised I’d be paying it off at the end of the week. The customer service rep I spoke with promised to have all the remittance details to me no later than Thursday morning. It felt strange, the idea of owning a home I’d hated to be in, but I reminded myself I wouldn’t have to LIVE there because it was nothing more than an investment in my future.    
We picked up our laundry, and after that it was off to Dress Barn to find something to wear for the upcoming bullshit. There were plenty of little boutiques around, but, let’s face it, good luck finding something above a size six. I knew that I’d be able to find something in my size at Dress Barn, even it wasn’t a perfect match for my ‘personal style’.
Seeing Tom holding the pile of dresses I wanted to try on as we headed to the fitting rooms struck me as hilariously funny, and I whipped out my phone to take a picture. He made me take another, in which he rolled his eyes and appeared as exasperated as possible. I dared him to post it online, and as soon as his hands were free he put it on Tumblr. I had him edit it when I saw the finished product.
Greetings and Salutations, Followers.
Not being the sort to back down from a dare, here’s a photo of me graciously attending to the needs my social media manager while she scours the racks at Dress Barn. I have a sneaking suspicion that the sole purpose of her goading me into posting this is so she’s able to deduct her purchases as a business expense.
Edited to add…said social media manager would like me to inform you that the ‘ask box’ will be open at some point today for ten minutes. Please check back periodically so you don’t miss out on the opportunity to send in your question.
Enjoy the day!
Tom
I forced myself to say no when he asked if he could join me in the fitting room so he’d be present and accounted for if any other needs that required tending cropped up, leaving him dejected and standing alone outside the entrance next to the service desk. He was wearing his running shorts, a white T-shirt, blue baseball cap and his running shoes, and while I knew if anyone looked closely he’d be recognized, the place wasn’t terribly busy so I figured it would be fine as long as I moved at a reasonable pace.
There were ten dresses in the stall with me, five different styles in both size twelve and fourteen. Women’s clothing sizes are a source of endless frustration and full of fuckery…a twelve often fits like a ten for one style, or a fourteen for another. Completely impossible to tell until you try it on, and then begins the parade back and forth to the rack to find that style in the next size up or down. Men’s stuff is so much more straightforward…a medium shirt is a medium shirt. A thirty-six waist is a thirty six waist. Hence my penchant for doing all my casual clothes shopping in the fella section. My double D’s complicated matters as well, the bottom half of me always a ten or twelve, the top more often than not a fourteen, sometimes a sixteen. Fine when buying separates, but dresses were a foray into a nightmare of too tight here, too loose there, too long everywhere, too…what the fuck is this even? It always seemed to me that many plus size designers were under the impression that there’s a direct correlation between a woman’s girth and her height. Not so, morons. Not so. When we put on weight, we do NOT get taller, sorry to say.
Three of the styles went into the ‘hell no’ pile prior immediately, having made me either look like a sausage or a matron, but the other two had promise. One was a short-sleeved faux wrap design with a black skirt and a black and white geometric patterned top. The wrap part was asymmetrical at the waist, which was surprisingly slimming. I couldn’t even get the twelve past my chest, but the fourteen, though a little snug in that area, was comfortable everywhere else. I walked out to show Tom and found him taking selfies with two women, probably in their mid-forties. His attention shifted when he saw me, and they looked my way as well, waving and saying hi. They complimented my dress, thanked Tom for the photos and were on their way.
I smirked, shaking my head. “Christ, I leave you alone for five minutes and the ladies are all up in your business.”
He shrugged, a slight blush creeping up from under his shirt to his neck. “They were returning something and I heard them whispering to each other, trying to determine if it was actually possible that Tom Hiddleston was standing outside a Dress Barn fitting room in New Orleans. I couldn’t help but say hello.” He pointed at me. “That looks amazing on you, by the way.”
I grinned. “Nice segue, as always. Thanks. This one is Viewing Dress.  Number two, Funeral Dress, awaits. I will most likely never wear either of them ever again.”
Funeral Dress was actually kinda funky, a black cold shoulder design, exaggerated V-neck, loosely fitted with three-quarter sleeves and silver embellishments. The twelve fit perfectly, hem hanging at four inches or so above my knee. Tom was resting against the wall to the right of the doorframe when I stepped out of the fitting room, biting his lip when he turned and looked me up and down, then leaned over to bite the exposed portion of my right shoulder, whispering ‘I. Want. You.’ while pulling away.
He laughed evilly at my semi-suppressed moan. “Oh, I like this one much better.”
I raised my brows. “Gosh, me too. Maybe this one will make another appearance at some point after all.”
He resumed his duties as dress carrier while I searched for a pair of high heels, which were as foreign and unacceptable to me as pineapple on pizza. After trying on what seemed like a thousand of the blasted things, I settled on a sensible black velvet pair. The toe was roomy and not too pointy, and though the heel was ridiculously narrow and three inches high, I didn’t totter too badly in them. I chuckled when I caught sight of myself in a mirror, hair in a sloppy ponytail, X-files T-shirt, hiking shorts and then…ninety dollar heels. When I turned to point out my serious fashion fug to Tom, I noticed he’d sat down on a bench further down the aisle, the one I’d left my sandals under.
I waved. “Hola. Como esta?”
He met my gaze as he rested his hands on his knees. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to walk towards me very, very slowly?”
I shook my head, put my hands on my hips and embraced my very first runway model moment as I strutted towards him. Midway through I burst out laughing and had to stop, bending over to catch my breath. He was in front of me in an instant, hands on my arms and setting me upright.
“Maude, do you have any idea…good Christ…the way your hips roll in those things is downright obscene.” He pulled me to him, cock hard against me in an unfamiliar spot.
I thrust my hips forward. “Oooh, man…I wish I was this tall all the time. It would be so much easier for you to fuck me standing up.” I stepped out of the heels and picked them up, walked to the bench, plopped down, then stuffed them back in their box as he stood there, mouth agape. I put my Birkis back on and stood, box tucked under my arm. “Let’s go, cowboy. Much to do and little time to do it in, as always.” He retrieved the dresses from where he’d left them hanging on the edge of one of the shelves, and obediently followed me to the checkout counters up front.
****************************************
Back at the hotel, we ordered in Chinese for lunch, scarfed half of it down and put the rest in the fridge for dinner, intending to spend the rest of the day working. We Skyped with Luke about the upcoming film festival schedule, then we took turns to chat with him individually. Simon kept sneaking behind him and making faces and obscene gestures until Luke kicked him out of the room. They were leaving for London early on the sixteenth, which reminded me that we hadn’t booked a flight for ourselves. I took care of it as soon as our session was over, then logged in to Tumblr and opened Tom’s ask box.
He was sprawled on the bed, already well into Interview with the Vampire. He’d mentioned the screenplay to Luke, who didn’t express an opinion either way, but Simon overheard and began screaming a combination of ‘OH MY FUCKING GOD!’, ‘MAUDE!’ and ‘YOU SNEAKY LITTLE MINX!’ over and over again in the background.
After ten minutes of me sitting at the desk while attempting to weed through the two hundred emails in my inbox, I closed the ask box and began reviewing questions. I deleted the vapid ones, of which there were many, which honestly surprised me, and focused on the ones that had required some thought and were not too personal.  
I cleared my throat to get Tom’s attention. Nada. I raised my leg and poked him with my toes. He jumped, startled, and grabbed my ankle as I tried to pull away.
My left eyebrow shot up. “Wow, I’m guessing you’re liking it, then?”
He nodded vigorously. “I’d like this to be the first book you put on the website, if that’s okay.”
“Sure thing, sunshine. Will you be doing a write up or shall we make a video? Have to get the camera out to make one to answer the Tumblr ask anyway, and you’re already in a white T-shirt…”
He grinned. “Sounds fine to me. Are we betting on the number of notes again?”
I crossed my arms. “No. I don’t want to break my winning streak. And you may be smiling, but I have a feeling you’re out for blood this time.”
“But Maude, I’m so gallant and chivalrous and sweet I would never…”
“Yeah. Fuck right off. Here’s the first question…I chose three. ‘What do you enjoy most about the filmmaking process?’”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Number two. ‘How did you manage to get so skinny to play Hank Williams?’”
He nodded.
“Number three. ‘Out of all the places you’ve travelled to, which is your very favorite?’”
He pointed at me. “That’s the one right there.”
My brow furrowed. “Seriously?”
He marked his place in the book, picked it up and nearly leapt off the bed. “Where are we doing this?”
I removed the video camera bag from my carry on. “How about in front of that awesome bamboo in the courtyard?”
“Perfect. You should bring the tripod.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
I sighed. “Fine. It’s in my suitcase. You can carry it.”
There was no one around when we got downstairs and went outside, so Tom set up the tripod smack in the middle of the path. The ceiling was slatted wood, the walls white, and the giant stalks of bamboo were set in an oval inside a square raised bed, grey gravel filling the non-mulched areas. Two planters sat on either side to the front of the bed, and behind it all were the beautifully aged original windows, the burnished brown wood golden in spots from weathering.
Tom wanted to do the book discussion first. He stood in the gravel, in the center of the raised bed, towards the front, book held with both hands in front of his chest. I gave him thumbs up and hit record.
“Hello there. Welcome to the first installment of Tom’s Library –What I’m Reading.” He held the book out toward the camera. “I hold here in my hands a story that was born right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, put to paper by the amazingly talented Anne Rice, whom I was fortunate enough to meet last evening over dinner. Interview with the Vampire, the initial title of the Vampire Chronicles series. This is my first time reading her work, I’m embarrassed to admit, and though I just delved in a few short hours ago I already find myself completely immersed in the world of Lestat de Lioncourt and Louis de Point du Lac. Her prose is poetic, gorgeous, dark and expressive and if I have my way I’ll be sitting in a corner with my nose firmly planted in this…” He held it up with one hand. “For the rest of the day. These are vampires as vampires were meant to be. My thanks to you, Anne, for dinner and for lending me your very own copy. I promise to return it unscathed.” He grinned and spread his hands, book clutched in the right one. “That’s all for now. I’m certain you’ll be hearing more about it from me sooner as opposed to later. Until next time, then.” He waved and I hit the record button again to stop filming.  
I applauded. “That was gold, Hiddleston. Gold. I don’t even need to edit it.”
He set the book down gently next to the tripod. “Shall we get right into the next one?”
“Yeah. It’s fucking hot out here. My sweat is sweating.”
He paused, looking down as he readied himself, raising his head and nodding when he was prepared to proceed. I hit the record button again.
“Greetings, Hiddlestoners, and all of you who follow me on Tumblr. Today’s question is from kneelbeforeloki1985zx - ‘Out of all the places you’ve travelled to, which is your very favorite?’ Previously, I’ve always found that one impossible to answer, but now…it’s simple. The island of Kaua’i. I just spent the two most incredible weeks of my life there. There’s beautiful scenery wherever you go, the ocean is an impossible shade of blue, and so on and so on. But the best spot on the entire island is the Talk Story bookstore. I’m sure you’re aware I’m a bit of a bibliophile, and the place is chock full of unique and rare reads. There is, however, another reason why I feel so strongly about it. It’s where I met Maude.” He waved at me, trying to get me to join him. I mouthed the words ‘are you fucking insane’ and he nodded, grinning. I shrugged and walked around the tripod and into the frame, doing a giant circle wave starting with my palm out flat toward the camera at stomach level, raising it up past my face, then clockwise out to my right side.
“Hello, People of Tumblr. I’m Maude Gallagher, Tom’s social media manager. Also known as She Who Turneth the God of Mischief into a Dress-Carrying Pack Mule. Please excuse my slovenly and disgustingly sweaty appearance. For the record, as far as I’m concerned there’s really only one acceptable reason to get sweaty…and let me tell you, standing outside in ninety-nine degree heat with ninety-six percent humidity sure as shit ain’t it.”
Tom lost it completely, head back and roaring with laughter at first, then bent over with his hands on his knees. I made a valiant attempt at keeping myself together, but it was foiled when he calmed down for a moment, then whispered ‘we’re up all night to get…sweaty’ and started giggling madly. I laughed until I wept, unable to catch my breath enough to speak, and we clutched at each other as we tried to regain some semblance of control, instead dissolving into another fit of chortles and snorts whenever we looked at each other.
I held my hand out in front of me. “We are SO sorry.” More snorts. “Really. We’re normally very, very professional.” I kept my eyes forward, staring at the gravel as I inhaled and exhaled to the count of five and cleared my throat. I felt Tom’s arm slip around my waist, pulling me to him. I turned my head in his direction, surprised at how he’d sobered so quickly.
He kissed my cheek, then looked directly into the camera. “Over the past few years I’ve been asked about my relationship status more times than I care to count, and at one point I replied to the effect that when there was something to say, I’d say it. And now there is, so here we go.” I teared up, remembering what he’d said to Luke back in Kauai’i…that he wanted the whole world to hear him when he said it. His grip on my waist tightened.
“Someday we’ll have to tell you the entire tale of how we met, because it’s amazing and entertaining and, frankly, something straight out of a movie, but…long story short, we had a delightful exchange at Talk Story that ended all too soon as we both had appointments to keep. I managed to finagle her phone number, promising to call after said appointment was over. As it turned out, unbeknownst to us, our appointments were with each other and my PR manager, Luke Windsor. He’d contacted Maude to arrange a sit down to discuss my social media participation without telling her my name, and he’d only let me know that we were meeting with someone regarding the matter, nothing else.” He turned to me and smiled, and I smiled back. “I’ve heard my entire life that when you find the right person, the person meant for you, that you just…know. Love at first sight. And I never really believed in it, most likely because it had never happened to me. Until the moment I laid on eyes on this gorgeous woman, that is. I just had to meet her. It was a compulsion I couldn’t resist. And when our gazes finally locked and she smirked at me…that was that. I knew. By the end of that very first day, I was madly, deeply and completely in love with her.”    
I rolled my eyes as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Goddamn you, Hiddleston.” I shook my head and pointed my thumb in his direction. “Anyway. Yeah. What he said. And I got a really cool job out of it all, too. Seriously, though. It was the most bizarre and extraordinary thing that I’ve ever experienced. One moment, there was some creep standing behind me who wasn’t saying anything and totally freaking me out, and ten seconds later when I turned around to berate his or her appalling behavior I found myself unable to utter a word because the creep was actually this beautiful man. A beautiful man who shortly thereafter followed me out of the store and got on his knees to beg for my phone number. I resisted at first, but as you know all too well, when it comes to Tom Hiddleston, resistance is futile. Later on that same day he brought me Lindor truffles. They were what pushed me over the edge, and down into the rabbit hole I went.” He cleared his throat. “Fine. It was more than the truffles. But let’s keep this PG, shall we?”
He leaned into me, left eyebrow raised, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Must we?”
I grinned in return as I punched him in the shoulder. “Do you think it wise to encourage me in such a fashion?”
He laughed again, shaking his head “I know it’s not.” Tom turned his attention back to the camera. “So, there you have it. Kaua’i. My favorite geographical location. I look forward to answering next week’s question…if we behave ourselves perhaps Maude will join us again.” I shook my head like a four year old refusing to eat their veggies, lips clamped shut. He grinned, tongue between his teeth, curling to touch his upper lip. “A huge thanks to all of you out there…I appreciate your support more than I can express with words. I still love the work, and I’m thrilled that you still enjoy it.” He bowed as I waved and walked out of the frame to turn off the camera.
I felt him beside me, and when I looked his way he was smiling gingerly. “Was that awful? Should we try again?”
I took his hand in mine. “Let’s watch it and see.”
When it was over his head bent towards me and came to rest on my shoulder. “So? Again?”
“No way. It was real, and hilarious, and beautiful.” Sighing, I rubbed my temple against the crown of his head. “And very, very personal. You’re certain you want to put this out there?”
He stood upright, grasped my upper arms and rotated my body to face him. “Absofuckingloutely, as you say. It’s already out there, isn’t it? Vaguely, perhaps, but obvious to those who wish to see it. This just…”
“Serves as confirmation. Which you know I think is the best way to handle it. Band-Aid. Right off. No ‘Are they? Aren’t they?’ I say post this bitch and let the chips fall where they may. And have I mentioned that it’s fucking HOT OUT HERE? If I don’t get inside soon I’m going to have a meltdown in more ways than one.”
He held his chin in his left hand, thumb grazing over his jawline, stroking, making me want to run my tongue over the same spot. “I believe you have. You get the camera, I’ll grab the tripod.”
“Thank you, kind sir. Let us now adjourn to our climate-controlled room where I will offer up a silent prayer of thanks to Willis Carrier prior to dragging my sweaty ass into the shower.”
His mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, then it closed again quickly.
I pointed at him. “You were going to sing your bastardized version of Get Lucky, weren’t you?”
He feigned astonishment, hand spread wide over his upper chest, index finger across his collar bone. “What? No! What would lead you to believe that I’d do such a thing?”
“Experience. Hot, remember? Inside time. Move it, Thomas. Move. It.”
“Ooohhh, inside time. I rather like the sound of that.”
He bounded toward the doors, beaming, as I swiveled my head back and forth in mock disgust, brain far to addled to compose a witty retort.
Once upstairs and cocooned in the delightful coolness that was our room, we ate the remnants of our Chinese food, then went back to work, Tom reading and making notes along the way, while I converted the videos to the proper format and uploaded them where they belonged. Hours later, all my emails were answered, photos and videos from Comic-Con interviews and panels that had been passed on to me as requested were posted, and I’d even reviewed several new account intake forms Luke had sent earlier in the day.
I got up from the desk chair, which was an ass-killer, stretched and plopped down on the floor. I couldn’t remember precisely when I’d last done yoga, and since I was caught up for the moment the perfect opportunity to cycle through some poses seemed to have presented itself. I didn’t bother with the mat as the carpet was so plush, and as I finished, lying in Corpse pose, it occurred to me that I had never in my life spent so much uninterrupted time with another human being. Normally, two days was my maximum before I’d freak out and need to be alone…yet here I was holed up in a hotel room that consisted of less than three hundred square feet of space, perfectly content to have him constantly in my presence.
Tom hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed, pillow tucked behind his back as he leaned against the headboard, one leg bent at the knee, arm resting on it, the other leg stretched out straight, his foot dangling off the bottom of the mattress. I’d always thought my ability to focus was superior, but he had me beat, perhaps by miles. It was no wonder why he was so good at his job…he invested every bit of himself, even in the tasks others would have considered unimportant or beneath them.  
Inspired, I returned to the desk, turned on my iPod, put in my headphones and began outlining a plan for yet another version of the Prosper website, one that would include detailed bios and CVs for of all our clients as well as links to their social media accounts. Everything else just faded away as I selected potential colors to use as a theme, all of which needed to coordinate with the existing logo. I was in the middle of typing up a message to Luke asking if he’d at least let me show him some alternatives to the white on black version he preferred, Bob Marley’s ‘Is This Love?’ blaring in my ears and reminding me of what I’d been pondering as I lay on the floor earlier, when the sound disappeared and all that remained was my own voice, singing loudly. Tom was standing next to me, finger having just hit the pause button.
I reached out and touched his hip. “Sorry if I disturbed you…I didn’t even realize I was singing.”
He extended his hand to me as he removed the earbuds from the jack, pulling me to my feet when I accepted it. “It’s a marvelous song, especially in your voice…I’d forgotten it even existed. Dance with me?”
Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started it over from the beginning and his arms encircled my waist. We swayed back and forth as we turned round and round, staring at each other and listening to the lyrics.
I wanna love you and treat you right; I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together with a roof right over our heads; We'll share the shelter of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread.
Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? I wanna know - wanna know - wanna know now! I got to know - got to know - got to know now! I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I - I'm willing and able, So I throw my cards on your table! I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right; I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads; We'll share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread. Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? Wo-o-o-oah! Oh yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now! Yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now! I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I - I'm willing and able, So I throw my cards on your table! See: I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat ya - love and treat ya right. I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together, with a roof right over our heads! We'll share the shelter of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! Jah provide the bread.
At some point he took my hand in his to hold both of them to his heart and I rested my head against the other side of  his chest, remaining there until the first strains of the next song began and he hit pause again. I could feel him burying his face in my hair, breathing me in. Reluctantly, I pulled back so I could see him. He looked…exhausted. Peaceful and serene, but exhausted. My hand rose to cup his cheek.
“You look very, very tired, Thomas.”
He chuckled. “Been a busy couple of days. It feels like…I don’t know how long, but every time I remember that it’s only Tuesday it blows my mind a bit.”
I frowned, recalling everything we’d endured in such a short span of time. “Sorry…”
My apology was cut short with a kiss, long and slow, his tongue tracing my lips then greeting mine with an ardent fervor. He extricated himself in order to speak, his voice gentle, one hand wound in my hair, fingers massaging the area just above my neck. “From now on, whenever you begin to apologize for something that doesn’t require one, I’m going to kiss you.”
My mouth curled in a half smile. “Er, I’m sorry?”
“Well, that turned out exactly as I expected.” He kissed me again, deeper, with a passion that made me shudder. “It’s well past midnight, woman. Time for bed.”
“Do you mean time for bed, or time for…bed?”  
“Whichever you prefer.”
I disrobed in ten seconds flat, flung myself on the mattress and patted the spot next to me. “Come on, Hiddleston. Up all night to get sweaty, right?”
He groaned as he slid his shorts down his long legs and whipped the T-shirt over his head. “That’s going to haunt me forever, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah. Forever and then some.”
****************************************
We slept in until noon on Wednesday, walked to Café du Monde for coffee and beignets…both of us realizing that if we lived here we’d be in serious trouble because, hello addiction…then headed back to the hotel to get ready for the viewing. I pointed out buildings and homes I loved along the way, as well as the bus stops so Tom could get a feel for what travelling around the city had been like for me. We stopped to listen to a street performer playing a portion of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61. It was odd without the orchestral accompaniment, but glorious just the same. Tom placed a hundred dollar bill in the young man’s case, carefully tucking it down near the bottom to prevent it from tempting a passerby to help themselves.
“Hard to believe that piece is from two hundred years ago, isn’t it? Everything he did is still so…relevant. I keep hoping that Skrillex is going to incorporate some portion of Beethoven’s work into his own stuff at some point.”
Tom looked at me, head tilted to one side. “Who’s Skrillex?”
“You don’t know who Skrillex is.” I said it as a statement of fact as opposed to a question.
He shook his head. “Not a clue. Should I?”
I shrugged. “Maybe? He’s an EDM artist, and, in my opinion, a fucking genius. Lots of people can’t stand his music, but I love, love, LOVE it. He released his first album on his MySpace page as a totally free download, and then the next two as well, in 2010. He won three Grammys in 2011.” I poked Tom’s arm. “THAT is how you use social media to your advantage. I saw him perform in 2014 at Red Rocks in Colorado. It was awesome, even though I felt like I was the oldest person there. Someone actually asked the kid next to me if I was his mom. Not surprising, I guess, because I’d just left a seminar and didn’t have time to change so I probably looked the part. Anyway. I’ll play you something later. Kinda like the Prodigy, but more metal. Completely original.”
“I look forward to it.” He took my hand as we reached the hotel block, stopping in his tracks. “How are you, Maude?”
“I’m…I’m okay, actually. I just want it done, you know?”
He squeezed. “I know. If Will happens to show up…what would you prefer that I do?”
“Hadn’t thought about it, but…fuck…you shouldn’t have to even be involved in this. I’m really sorry…”
A kiss, short but sweet, interrupted me.
“Right. Not sorry. How’s this? I find it to be terribly unfair that you may have to encounter the epic douchebag that is my ex-husband, and I wish things were different. An apology, but…not.” I blanched. “God, I’m not sure I’ve ever said that before. Ex-husband. I think I may vomit.”
Tom embraced me and kissed the top of my head, then released me.
I bit my lip. “So. To answer your query…I can’t answer it, honestly. What do you want to do?”
The left side of his mouth twisted upward in a sneer. “Split his skull?”
I snorted. “Get in line.”
He laughed. “I’m aware that you’re perfectly capable of handling it on your own, but I still want to be nearby, just in case. Mainly because he’s gotten violent with you in the past. Is that okay?”
I paused, frowning. “Be nearby, yes. But if anything physical happens, please promise me you won’t raise so much as a finger unless there’s some sort of imminent danger. He’s the kind of asshole who’d try to get you to hit him simply because he knows doing so could damage your reputation.”
His brow creased. “Hadn’t thought of that aspect. I promise…it won’t be easy, since I already want to punch him repeatedly, but…I promise.”
I hugged him briefly. “Thank you, Thomas. See, if I punch him and the cops show up all I have to do is tell them he fucked my mother while he was married to me and is now crashing her funeral and they’ll be all like, hit him again, lady. We’ll be out getting some beignets if you need us.”
We began walking again, the hotel lobby only a few steps away. He held the door for me as we entered.
“Is it wrong that I’d love to see you give him a sound ass kicking?”
“Nope. I think it’s adorable. And, I’m overcome by the urge to apologize again but if you keep kissing me…yeah. It would be rather gauche of me to be late, would it not?”
He nodded, and we climbed the two flights in silence. His phone was ringing as we opened the door, and he let out a muffled ‘fuck’ in the hallway when he realized he’d forgotten it. He managed to catch it before it went to voicemail, and he mouthed ‘Legendary’ at me as he answered.
I hopped in the shower, attempting to shift my focus to something more pleasant whenever what awaited me crossed my mind. He stopped talking, and I heard his footsteps coming toward me and into the bathroom.
“They’ve reworked the cast, and we begin shooting in late October. On Oahu.”
I whooped. “MORE HAWAII!” I cleared my throat. “Assuming that I’m coming with you.”
“Well, I’m not going without you, so…”
“Good. But I insist upon staying in a nearby hotel, not in any housing they’re providing for you. When you and the powers that be deem it appropriate for me to take pics and so forth I’ll come to the set. I’m not into going full on Yoko Ono. You need to do your thing, bond with your co-stars and all that jazz.”
He opened the curtain, laughing. “Full on Yoko Ono. I love that. And I love you. As long as you don’t mind me showing up to be near you at all sorts of odd hours and sleeping there whenever possible I’m okay with you being in a hotel.”
I waggled my eyebrows. “Booty calls. I can hardly wait.”
He reached in and put his hand on my shoulder. “Maude, you’re so…different. It’s incredibly freeing, having someone in my life who…I can’t quite explain it. Probably because you’re naked.”
“Makes sense. I forget my own name when you’re naked. How about…understands that your occupation demands long and often unusual hours in faraway places?”
“Yes, but…more than that.”
“Okay…isn’t a total attention whore who can’t deal with not being able to parade you around 24/7? Who has her own interests and a job to keep her occupied while you do yours? Isn’t a massively annoying cling-on who’s so self-centered that she gets pissed when you can’t do what she wants when she wants to do it?”  
His smile took my breath away. “Yes. That. But you left out ‘is intelligent, confident, powerful, caring, amusing and sexy as fuck’. And I’m sure I missed a few, too.” He removed his hand from my shoulder and took his phone out of his pocket. “I’m pleased to inform you that I had an abundance of texts waiting for me, all of them commenting on our Tumblr video.” He began reading them to me. “From Hemsworth, ‘It’s wonderful to see you so happy, mate. Good on both of you.’ Evans said ‘Tom, you lucky bastard…she’s beautiful, and wicked funny. Tell me she has a sister.’ Ben’s comment was ‘That’s how it happens, you know…minding your own business and…BOOM. Can’t wait to meet her.’ And then there’s Downey’s, ‘Tommy. I know that woman. Don’t fuck this up. Oh, and Susan says MARRY HER RIGHT NOW.’” He was blushing, a deep pink color that began at his collar bones and reached all the way up to his cheeks. “There are a bunch more, if you want to read them later. Did anyone mention it to you?”
I laughed. “Thomas, my love…in order for friends to comment on such matters, one must first have friends. So, no. And I haven’t checked the post comments. That’s for another day.”
He waited while I finished, then stepped in to take his turn.
I kissed him on the cheek. “You are so very, very cute when you blush.” He shut the curtain in my face. “You’re doing it again right now, aren’t you?” He remained silent, and I chuckled to myself the entire time I was getting dressed, until he wandered out of the bathroom naked and dripping yet again…at which point all other thoughts escaped me.
He dressed as I put on makeup and wound my hair into a bun, cursing occasionally at my ineptness, then finally saying fuck it and letting it hang loose. After fastening the tourmaline necklace into place, I went back out into the main area. Tom looked stunning, as always, in the grey pants he’d worn at Comic-Con, a black button down shirt, grey knit tie and black patent shoes. He had his light grey jacket in his hand.
“Should I wear this, do you think?”
I shook my head vehemently. “Not unless you want the next funeral to be yours. You’ll fucking sweat to death.”
He peered at me quizzically. “Surely they have air conditioning.”
“Yes. They do. But no one ever turns it up enough. I hope I’m wrong, but…yeah.” I slung my bag across my body after looking at the clock. 3:30. “Ready?”
He nodded, and we made for the car.
****************************************
The receiving room was painted a pale yellow, with a yellow-gold carpet and drapes to match on the wall behind the casket. Brown wooden chairs with avocado green leather seats and backs that clashed horribly with the pink roses had been arranged in neat rows, though I doubted we’d need them. I didn’t anticipate much of a crowd, unless they were coming purely for the schadenfreude, in which case it might be standing room only. Mrs. Henderson came out of a side door to greet us.
“Hello, Maude. Have you seen her yet?” I shook my head, and she motioned for me to follow her to the front of the room. Tom grabbed my hand and came along. The pink dress looked garish, but that would have been the case even if she was still alive. I had to admit that the cosmetologist had done an exceptional job…her color was nearly normal, cheeks fleshed out (with what, exactly, I was sure I didn’t want to know) and blush applied, her hair washed and styled, fanning out on the white pillow behind her. “She looks beautiful, and so peaceful, doesn’t she?”
I wanted to scream, but I nodded instead.
She pointed to a grouping of three chairs to the left of the casket. “You can stand or sit until guests begin arriving, whichever you prefer. If this room gets too full, you’re welcome to have folks wait in the one next door…your mother’s is the only visitation we have remaining for today. I’ll be right behind this door if you need anything, and at 6 PM you’ll have the opportunity to say goodbye privately before we seal the coffin.”
I flopped down gracelessly in the chair furthest away, tossed my bag on the floor and put my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. Tom sat next to me, gently rubbing my back until we heard a familiar voice.
“Maudie! Thomas! There you are.” She was wearing a black dress with a white lace collar, a black and ivory cameo at her neck. She walked toward us, then peeked in the coffin before taking a seat next to Tom. “Wow. They did a nice job.”
Tom and Anne chatted about the screenplay while we waited for people to show up, and listening in was a welcome distraction for me. I checked my phone and discovered it was already 4:30, and not a single soul had come by.
The next hour seemed to drag on endlessly, with only six visitors…our former chef and  housekeeper, two neighborhood ladies that my mother couldn’t stand, Barty, and Reverend Thompson, who indicated that he always turned out for such things when he was officiating the at the funeral. Barty, who’d apparently been Anne’s lawyer for years before she relocated to California for the second time, lingered, pulling a chair over and sitting beside her so they could catch up.
By 5:45 I thought we were in the clear, but moments later the yelling started. It was distant, but I knew immediately who it was. Lord knows I’d heard his voice at that volume often enough throughout the course of our relationship. I couldn’t make out all of what he was saying, but I did hear ‘fucking cunt’ and ‘does she think she is’ quite distinctly. Tom was engaged in conversation with Anne and Barty, and he paid me no mind when I got to my feet. Boots echoed down the hallway, thumping on the hardwood floors, and then there he was, in the doorway and storming through it, headed straight for me.
I laughed out loud when I took in his appearance…I’d forgotten how short he was, barely as tall as me when I was in bare feet and he was wearing shoes,  and I was reasonably sure that I’d tower over him in my three inch heels. He’d put on at least fifty pounds, belly hanging over the top of his jeans, black and white Nirvana T-shirt two sizes too small. His hair still hung long, midway down his back, but his hairline had receded more than halfway on the sides above his temples, leaving nothing but a tufty grey-streaked strip running down the middle of his head. The jeans were filthy, his tan work boots shabby and unlaced, and a plaid flannel was tied around what passed for his waist, partially invisible under his protruding stomach. Other than the weight gain and the hair loss, he looked pretty much the same as when I’d left…meaning, those might just be the same exact fucking clothes he’d worn for days at a time seventeen years ago. Hopefully he’d laundered them at some point.
As he drew closer I realized he really didn’t look the same at all…his complexion was ashen, eyes bloodshot with dark circles under them, skin wrinkled and leathery, lips cracked and chapped. He was speaking, pointing a finger in my face, but I couldn’t hear him, my only focus intent on the amount of dirt underneath his fingernail. I suppressed a gag as the fact that I’d slept with this disgusting piece of shit rose to the surface of my mind. As I pushed the thought away his voice, southern accent as thick as ever, became clear.
“…show your ugly face in this town, sneakin’ behind my back and tryin’ to take what’s MINE. But I FOUND OUT, because I KNOW PEOPLE and I got told YOU were there Monday with your fag actor boyfriend and that there was a fuckin’ realtor car there yesterday…you can’t fuckin’ SELL it, it’s MY house now…”
I squared my shoulders as my arm shot out, hand wrapping around his hairy wrist and squeezing tightly, voice icy and dripping with condescension.
“If you plain on retaining possession of that particular digit I’d strongly advise you to cease waving it in my face.”
An expression of surprise crossed his countenance briefly and was quickly replaced with rage. He tried to twist away from me, but my own rage had tightened my grip well beyond my ordinary level of strength, to the point where tears began to well up in his eyes from the pain. I let go, smirking.
His hands dropped to his sides, balled into fists. “You ain’t gonna do another goddamn THING until we see a LAWYER, Maude. I want what’s MINE.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m sorry…what do you mean, you want what’s yours? NOTHING is yours. She died intestate.”
He stomped his foot. “I don’t care what the fuck it was that killed her…all that matters is she’s dead, and she left me everything. It says so in her will.” He whipped a stained, dog-eared sheaf of papers out of his back pocket, unfolded them and tapped his finger to the front page. “Right fuckin’ HERE.”
I’d heard Barty snicker at his reply to my intestate comment, and I could feel the fiendish grin spreading across my face. Granted, there weren’t as many people present as I would have liked for the show, but I was going on with it anyway.
I rolled my eyes. “Intestate means without a will, you fucking moron. Which, in turn, according to the laws of the great state of Louisiana, means that everything goes to ME, not YOU. And it was the booze that killed her…technically alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver, but I think I’ve already exceeded your fifty-cent word limit for the day, so let’s just leave it at booze.”
He screamed and waved the papers in my face. “I HAVE THE WILL RIGHT HERE, YOU STUPID BITCH!”
Mrs. Henderson popped her head out and asked if everything was all right…I nodded and waved her away, and Anne got up and followed her into the adjoining room.
I shook my head. “Shut up and listen very carefully, William. After you left town with wife number three, Mary filed a statement with her attorney revoking all existing wills and codicils after marking the most recent one VOID. That’s the one you keep waving around there, by the way. She knew you had a copy, and she wanted to make sure you got precisely jack shit.”
He took a step forward, snarling. “YOU’RE A FUCKIN’ LIAR!”
Barty stood up and walked to my side. “Mr. Bonaventura, I’m Bartholomew Stevens, Mary Bonaventura’s attorney.” He pulled a document out of his inner jacket pocket. “Here’s a notarized copy of her revocation statement as well as the will she marked void. You’ll find it’s identical to the one you already have in your possession. Ms. Gallagher is 100% correct. The entire contents of the estate passes directly to her as the only surviving child. Go ahead and take those to your own lawyer and he’ll tell you the same.” As he went back to sit next to Tom he winked at me, and I wanted to kiss him.
I could see Will’s wheels turning, trying to figure out how he could get something out of this. I dove in before he could speak.
“Sorry asshole, no payday for you. Guess it’s time to find another cash cow to milk, especially since your most recent one’s run dry as well.” His eyes widened. “Yeah. I know. Took me a while, I’ll give you that, but all the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. You dragged me to Vegas and got me blackout drunk so I’d marry you because you thought I was rolling in dough. When you found out my mother was the one with all the money, you started fucking her and she fell for your bullshit hook, line and sinker. Once hers ran out, you latched on to Anna Beth. Rinse, lather, repeat.”
He took a step forward. “You begged me to marry you. You said you loved me. And you sure fucked me like you did.”
Without pausing to consider the consequences of my actions, I leaned back, made a fist and swung, hitting him square on the mouth. His head flew to the side, blood spraying from where I’d split his lip.
“The only reason I ever fucked you AT ALL was because I was DRUNK, you worthless piece of shit. My heart had just been torn from my chest not once, but TWICE, and I couldn’t face the pain. You were nothing more than a convenient excuse so I could tell myself I was an ARTIST who liked to party, not a raging alcoholic. I NEVER loved you. And you knew it. And that’s why you tricked me into marrying you, abused me, belittled me, accused me of cheating and played all your other mind fuck games. That and the fact that you didn’t want me to notice that you were fucking MY MOTHER before you were certain she was all yours.”
He lunged at me, and I saw Tom stand up out of the corner of my eye as I grabbed Will by the shoulders, kneed him in the balls, then shoved him backward. I motioned for Tom to sit back down as I steadied myself, balancing on one heel even just for a few seconds having thrown me off balance. His eyes narrowed, but he complied.
Will was doubled over, and I bent down, got close and screamed in his face. “It’s bad enough that you’ve done this all your life, grifting and sponging off everyone else because you’re too fucking lazy to get an actual JOB and won’t let your stupid dream of hitting it big because you’re such a great guitar player DIE, but now you have CHILDREN who are COUNTING ON YOU to PROVIDE FOR THEM. Newsflash, fucktard. You’re too fat, too bald and too old for anyone in the industry to even look twice at you, and your guitar playing is mediocre at best. The only reason your band was popular back in the day was because of ME. People came to hear ME sing, not to hear YOU play. And that always burned your ass too, didn’t it? I hope it still does. Every fucking day.”
He stood upright as best he could, arms still clutching his stomach, staring at me like he had no idea who I was.
“This didn’t turn out quite the way you expected, did it? Sorry to disappoint, but the coward of a girl I was when you knew me…the one who let you walk all over her and treat her like she was worthless and stupid…she’s been dead for years, Will. Her father blowing his brains out killed her drunk ass off and a goddess took her place.” I pointed at my chest with my thumb. “This, this is the REAL me. The me that’s going to pay off the mortgage on my crazy fucking mother’s house so I can sell it later for a huge profit. The me that’s going to sell every single fucking thing that’s in it, too. Your toys, your instruments, every piece of equipment in the recording studio, her shit, ALL OF IT. And would you like to know what I’m going to do with the proceeds? Of course you would. I’m donating every single penny to a crisis organization for victims of domestic violence, the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children, right here in New Orleans. Appropriate, don’t you think? It won’t make up for any of what you’ve done to me, or to Anna Beth, but it will surely help a LOT of women move on from their OWN Wills, and it’ll absofuckingloutely put a smile on MY face every time I think of how much my doing it pissed you off.”
The staring continued, his eyes wide with shock.
I waved my hands at him in dismissal. “We’re done here. Time to go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. And do not, under any circumstances, show up here tomorrow for the service OR at the cemetery. Unless you want me to kick your sorry ass some more, that is.”
His brow furrowed, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled a Neanderthal. He turned and walked slowly toward the doorway, then looked back at me, the fire still gone from his eyes but unwilling to let me have the last word.
“This ain’t over. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer, you fat fuckin’ cunt.”
I laughed. “Looked in the mirror lately, Will? Fat cunt is a much more appropriate description of YOUR appearance these days, not mine. I’ll be waiting with baited breath for your attorney’s call. In the meantime, get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t move until I took a step in his direction, then finally exited the room and stomped down the hall.
I remained in place for several moments, rewinding and replaying it all in my head. A smile spread across my face, so huge and wide that it was almost painful. I turned around to see everyone standing, eyes on me. Barty, Anne, who I had no idea had come back into the room, and…Tom. He’s the one who began applauding first, and the others joined in immediately.
I held up my hands in a stop gesture. “You should NOT be rewarding this kind of behavior, folks. Where’s Mrs. Henderson, I need to tell her how so very, very sorry I am…”
Tom strode over, embraced me, picked me up and spun me around, mouth on mine as he set me back down, sucking on my lower lip until I moaned. Barty cleared his throat and Tom released me.
He glanced in Barty’s direction and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t help myself.” He turned back to me, whispering. “Maude…you are, indeed, a goddess. MY goddess.”
I whispered in return. “Are you going to worship me later?”
His reply was a barely audible hiss in my ear that made me shiver. “Yessss.”
Barty appeared behind Tom, clapping him on the back. “So, who’s up for some dinner at the Palm Court Jazz Café? One of my favorite haunts. The food is damn tasty…” He patted his belly. “And I enjoy it as often as I can, as you can clearly see. My treat, of course.”
Anne answered first. “Count me in. I’m in just the right mood for some jazz. And Mrs. Henderson went to make sure Will actually left the building. She said not to worry, that this kind of thing happens more often than you’d imagine, and to just leave when we we’re done and she’d take care of the rest.”
Tom met my gaze, raising an eyebrow. I nodded and spoke for both of us. “We’re in too. But it’s MY treat, Barty. You being here with those papers…epic. So, so epic.”
He laughed. “A little bird was kind enough to inform me that Mr. Bonaventura had arrived in our fine town, and I had planned on coming anyhow. Always be over-prepared…every attorney’s mantra. I’ll let you buy, darlin’. Next time’s on me, though.”
I smiled. “Fine. Why don’t you and Anne go on ahead and get us a good table?” I looked over to the casket, then back at Barty. “There’s something else I need to do here.”
He nodded, took Anne by the arm and walked her out.
Tom put his hands on the sides of my face. “Would you like some privacy?”
“I’d like you to stay, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded, then removed his hands and slid one arm around my waist as we walked up to the coffin. He let me go when I stopped to pick up my bag on the way. After staring at her face for a few moments, I took a deep breath and began to speak, knowing that my adrenaline high could slip away at any moment, leaving me a quivering, shaky mess.
“Mary. I’d call you Mom, but…you weren’t really that, were you? So Mary it is. Better than what I’d really like to call you, that’s for sure.” I reached in my bag and pulled out the brown leather box with the maroon tapestry inset that held my father’s revolver. I heard Tom inhale sharply, but he didn’t speak. “I know you left this for ME, but…I want you to have it. And you will, now, forever. Theoretically. What Dad did…in the end it was his choice, but you’re the one who betrayed his love. And what a love it was. Yet you threw it away like it was nothing, and because of that, he was already dead before he pulled the trigger. But his heart kept beating in spite of how he felt, so he had to finish the job. Anyway. None of it was my fault, and his tomb is sealed, so, here you are. A little parting gift to enjoy while you rest eternally at his side.”
I put the box down inside the coffin, below her hands and out of sight.
“All of my life, I could never understand why you didn’t love me. And I always thought it was because of something I did, or who I was. Now I know it wasn’t me at all…that’s just what you wanted me to think. The real reason you never loved me…and, scratch that…the reason you hated me was because you regretted the choices you made in your own life, and because you were jealous of me. That, at least, makes sense. Of course you were jealous. I’m everything you were never capable of being, or becoming. The best you could ever do was dress yourself up and try to look pretty enough so that no one would notice that you were nothing more than a monster in an expensive dress. I wasted so much time…my god, the TIME…feeling like I’d missed out on so much because I never really had a mother, when, in truth, the only person who missed out on anything was YOU. You had an amazing, beautiful, intelligent, funny daughter who loved you despite everything you did to her. You never got to know me, you never cared to know me, and now you never will. My love for you turned to hate long ago, but now…even that’s gone. I feel…nothing. You’re nothing. But I’m something. Because I’m still here. You did your best to destroy me, but you couldn’t. Not completely. I’m too strong for that. Stronger than you. And I’m happy. Happy with my life, and happy that you’re finally out of mine. For good. There’s no coming back from where you’ve gone. Every night the last thing on your mind before you fell asleep may have been how you wished I’d never been born, but the last thing on MY mind every night before I fall asleep is… love. So, fuck you, Mary. I win. You lose. Game over.”
I turned around and began to walk toward the doorway, but Tom stopped me.
“When did…how…”
“You used the bathroom after the real estate agent left and I snagged it. Still wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it, but…”
His arms wrapped around me, and he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “You’ve left me speechless again, Maude. God, how I love you.” He pulled back, smiling softly at me. “Ready to go?”
I nodded. “Fuck yeah. I’m starving.” I paused. “And Tom…thank you, once more, for being here. And not judging me. I love you too.”
“You’re very welcome. Though I have to admit, I did, in fact, judge you.”
I shot him a look. “I’m sorry, what?”
He laughed. “I judged you. And my verdict is that you throw one mean fucking punch, woman. In heels, even.”
I slapped his upper arm. Lightly. “You know, I had no idea I could do that. It felt really, really good. TOO good. Maybe I should take up boxing.”
We walked through the doorway together, and he leaned into me. “Not a bad idea. Then you could serve as my bodyguard as well.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know, Thomas, you can’t expect me to do EVERYTHING.”
He held the building door open for me, whispering seductively as I passed by him, his hand cupping one cheek of my ass. “As long as you do me, nothing else matters.”
“Shut up, Thomas. Please. Shut. Up.”
He laughed all the way to the car, finally quieting down when I distracted him by hiking my skirt more than halfway up my thighs as I sat down in the driver’s seat. Then it was my turn to laugh…until his hand found its way between them in the parking lot. And mine found its way into his pants. We were slightly more than fashionably late when we finally made it into the restaurant, but Anne and Barty were too busy dancing to notice.
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angstinspace · 12 years ago
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ikr, just one big giant tumblr boob
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