As Simon explains to her how we found the picture, I stare down at the little baby in the photo. Is that what our children will look like? Even as a baby, he looked robust.
“Oh my gosh. Sierra, I never put together the dots. I met your grandmother while I was working a domestic abuse case for one of her other clients. I was pregnant with Simon, and somehow, during one of my interviews with her, I told her how I had panic attacks every time I came near a hospital. I always hated them. She offered to be my midwife, and I took her up on it.” Tears are apparent in the choked-up voice echoing out from the phone sitting between us on the floor.
“This is incredible.” I reach into the drawer and pull out the framed photo of my MeMaw holding me as a baby, in the exact same rocking chair Simon’s mom held him. Taking his photo out of the album, I lie them side by side. Tears are streaming down my face unchecked. “You met my MeMaw.”
True, he was an infant, but just knowing that she helped bring into the world the man I would eventually fall in love with is completely blowing my mind. It feels like fate. Like every awful thing that happened to get us both to such a level of desperation to agree to film a porn video of our first times was all worth it.
“Mom, we have to go. See you this weekend for dinner.” We all say our goodbyes and then sit in stunned silence as we absorb the last twenty minutes or so. “I think we should put these albums on the bookshelf. They should be out for you to see every day. Not hidden in a drawer. He starts pulling the albums out, stacking one of top of the other.
Something heavy hits the floor as he pulls the last one out, and I look down to see a small wooden box, no bigger than two inches tall. “What’s that?”
Simon picks the box up and slides the top off, looking inside. “Well if that isn’t sign, I don’t know what is.”
“What is it?” I stand, cradling the album where we found his photo in my arms. I know I have an empty picture frame somewhere that I can put his baby photo in. I want to put it on the dresser in our room right next to the framed photo of MeMaw and I.
When I glance back down at Simon, he's on one knee, holding the box in one hand, and my grandmother’s ring in the other. The ring I thought she had lost forever. I remember being twelve and tearing apart the apartment looking for it. My grandfather died when my mom was five, and MeMaw had been devastated she lost the ring he gave to her, saved every paycheck from the Army for years to afford.
“I think your MeMaw is trying to tell us something. And I agree one hundred percent. I know this is fast, and that we’ve only known each other for six months. But I knew in six seconds I wanted forever with you. Marry me, Sierra.” Determination and love fill his eyes, and I can’t imagine a world in which I could ever say no to this man.
I fall to my knees in front of him, nodding like a crazed bobblehead. “Yes, of course. I love you so much.”
Simon slips the ring onto my finger, and in yet another strange coincidence to add to the list, it fits perfectly. Within moments, we’re on the floor, ripping each other’s clothes off. Our kisses are wild and frantic, hands and fingers groping to touch every available swath of skin.
“Need to be inside you, now.” The tightness in his voice tells me Simon is on the edge.
We’ve discovered a lot about sex together in the last six months. But no matter what, there is always this strange mix of tenderness and aggression. Every step of the way, he makes sure I feel safe, that I’m with him in everything. But he isn't afraid to manhandle me. To tell me what he needs. To give me what I need without having to ask for it. I’m not sure if it is like this for everyone else, and I never want to know. This man is all I'll ever need to know.
Foregoing foreplay is rare for us. Simon loves nothing more than to make me wet and desperate for his big cock. But at this moment, it is like we have to be at our closest, to lock the extraordinary moment. Right there on the carpet, he slides into me in one swift thrust, lacing our fingers and holding my hands up over our heads. He stills inside me, our hips pressed tight together, his forehead resting on mine, and his weight pressing me into the floor. I’m completely covered, held down at his will, and I love it.
“I swear, I’m going to make you so happy. Starting right now by making you scream my name. Then every day after in any way you need.”
True to his word, Simon does just that. Three times over. And as we lay completely sated and glowing hours later, I close my eyes and send a silent thank you to MeMaw, for bringing me this incredible man.
