The door opens and Freedom blows onto the deck like a light wind. She’s wearing one of her signature skirts and has paired it with an ivory sweater that hangs loosely off one shoulder. There’s no strap, which tells me she’s not wearing a bra beneath the knitted top. My cock starts to thicken at the thought.
“So, I was thinking,” she starts, coming over to where I’m seated. Shockingly, she doesn’t take one of the other available seats, but instead, climbs up on my lap.
My entire body stills, even though my hands itch to touch. “What were you thinking about?” I ask, clearing my throat. I reach for my necktie but realize it’s not there. When we came home from dinner, I took it off and hung it in the closet beside the dozens of other ties. It’s weird to not wear one right now.
“I was thinking we should add a little something to the kitchen,” she says, curling her legs up on my lap and essentially making herself comfortable.
I have no other option than to wrap my arms around her and hang on. “Define a little something.” My heart starts to pound in my chest.
“A theme.”
“A theme?”
“You know like farmhouse chickens or vibrant sunflowers,” she says, as she leans her head back on my shoulder and gazes up at the stars. “They’re so bright tonight. The sky’s so clear.”
I glance up and take in the majestic beauty of the sky. When was the last time I just stopped and looked at the stars? Ever?
“When I was at the compound, I used to watch the stars. I’d lie on the ground and make shapes and pictures with them. Once, I swear I saw a whale in the sky.”
I’m not sure if her comment requires and answer or not, so I just pull her tighter into my chest. All I can picture is a young Freedom, with her long brown hair in the dirt and a smile on her face as she stares up at the sky and finds star animals.
“Anyway, I was thinking you needed a theme. Some matching hand towels, a few pictures on the wall, and maybe a clock. If you’re feeling super adventurous, we could even paint the cabinet faces a coordinating color.” The entire time she talks, she just stares up at the sky, a serene look on her face.
“Those are solid mahogany cabinets, Freedom.”
She turns and our eyes meet. “Are those nice?”
I snort a laugh. “Yeah, darling, they’re nice. They were quite expensive to install.”
“Huh. Really? I mean, they’re okay, but why spend so much on something that’s just a plain wood? You could have gotten a cheaper pine cabinet and painted them to fit your mood or theme,” she reasons, and I find myself, surprisingly, smiling.
“Maybe my next kitchen.”
“So, we don’t paint your fancy cabinets then. What about the walls? We could do an accent wall?”
The no is on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I don’t say it. Instead, I find myself agreeing. “That might work. What theme were you thinking?”
Her eyes widen with delight as she tells me all about the different ideas she has. I don’t really pay that much attention. I’m too transfixed on her eyes. At the delight. At the sparkle. At the light that seems to radiate from her soul. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Freedom is a true ray of sunshine, packed in a tiny, eccentric woman.
“Oh! What about some Aztec pottery? Did you know I used to make bowls and things to sell at the market?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, when I was seven, they showed me how to bake pottery over a fire.”
My heart stops in my chest. “At seven?” I ask, trying to picture young Freedom working by a large fire she had no business being around.
“That’s how I got this,” she says, holding up her arm and showing me a faint scar across her wrist. “One of the pieces we were baking fell over and touched my skin. It burned horribly,” she says, holding up her arm to my face.
I find myself bringing my lips down to the skin and skimming over the soft area. “I’m sorry you were burned.”
She shrugs. “They put some cream on it, and it was better a few days later. But this mark never went away.”
My eyes are glued to hers, and I swear I fall further in love with her in this moment, with her sitting on my lap and my arms wrapped protectively around her body. “I think adding some pottery to the kitchen would be a great idea,” I tell her. My heart swells with happiness as she beams a bright smile at me.
“Okay, well, I’ll check around and see what I can find.”
“Okay.”
We sit together, staring up at the sky, and lost in our own thoughts. I’m thinking about the woman in my arms, about the difficult childhood she must have endured. I’m sure she didn’t realize it at the time, and maybe difficult isn’t the right word. Different. Like me. Her upbringing was different than mine. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. She learned so many important lessons we may not have learned until an older age, if ever.
Maybe that’s what I need in my life. Not a piece of normal, but a slice of different.
Someone like Freedom.
Glancing up, I smile. “Do you see those stars there?” I point to the dozen stars all clustered together. “It looks like a taco.”
Chapter Eighteen
Freedom
The days fly by, and before I know it, I’ve been staying with Samuel for almost four weeks. We’ve successfully learned to coexist in a small house, without killing each other. If you would have asked me months ago, I would have sworn one of us wouldn’t have survived this excursion. But here we are, with splashes of color all over his drab, white house.
Except his bedroom. It’s the only room he hasn’t allowed me to decorate.
Yet.
I’m
