Page 25 of First Comes Marriage
“Always am and I’ve got even more reason to do so nowadays, Jolie. Good night, sweetheart.”
“Night, Dex.”
After disconnecting, I put my phone on the charger, then head into the bathroom to complete my nighttime routine, which includes refilling Prissy’s food bowl, giving her fresh water, and checking to make sure her automatic litter box is still good to go. Once I’m done and in my nightgown, my face freshly washed and moisturized, I climb into bed, turn out the light on my nightstand, whisper a prayer to keep my husband safe, then curl into his pillow which still faintly smells like him.
“God, I miss him,” I murmur as the sleep of exhaustion strikes and I slip into dreamland where little boys with his striking looks run around the back yard with Nerf guns while a little girl who looks like me sits by my side shucking corn.
Chapter Fifteen
Dex
“Maybe I’m getting too old for this shit after all,” I groan as I roll out of bed early the next morning. Grabbing my clothes and the hygiene kit that Jolie bought for me, I take a quick shower and then make sure I have all my stuff together before I make my way to the hotel lobby to wait for Rex. Sometimes, the company just uses a driver to haul us employees to the airport, but this time, I get the five-star treatment, which I plan to tease Rex about.
During my career with Oceanic, more often than not, I’ve had Rex as my designated pilot. It sometimes gets confusing as hell when we’re together because our names are so similar that people mix us up, but I still don’t understand how that’s possible since we don’t resemble each other in any way whatsoever. Because of my mixed heritage, that has a little bit of everything, my skin is smooth and swarthy, like The Rock, I keep my head shaved, and unless I’m home, I don’t have any facial hair, plus, I’m a relatively big man standing at six feet, four inches. I’ve got muscles from the heavy lifting and other physical work I’ve donefor the past seventeen years, and while Rex is no slouch, he’s shorter, has a full head of hair, an impressive as fuck beard, and he’s lean, like a swimmer, with broad shoulders.
He’s also one helluva pilot, having done a stint in the military as well. I’ve been in the air with him when we’ve run into freak storms, and while we’ve come close to going down for the last time, he always manages to pull a Hail Mary out of his ass or something because other than some bumps and bruises, we’ve always arrived at our destination safe and sound.
Shaking my head at my thoughts, I make sure the rosary that Nonna gave me is tucked into my pocket on my specially made cargo pants, then decide to put in the digital photo frame so I can show the pictures to Rex that Jolie sent of the kittens and their foray into painting. I’ve watched it so many times after she uploaded it to the link that sends it to the device, and every time, I find something else in the reel to laugh about.
“Those pants are really cool, mister,” a high-pitched voice says. Glancing around, I see a little boy, who is maybe Arya’s age, looking up at me.
“Thanks. They’re a special design,” I reply. “The fabric has been treated so it’s both flame-retardant and water-repellant. Do you know what that means?”
“It means that they won’t get wet, but they also won’t catch on fire, right?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes that maybe he got it correct.
“You’re absolutely right,” I tell him, crouching down. “See all these pockets? I’m an oil rig welder, so the pockets are special too, almost like a zipper bag you use for lunch sandwiches. That way, I can carry my phone, my wallet, and anything else I want,and it’ll stay safe, although, when I have to go under water, I lock my phone and wallet in my toolbox. No sense in taking chances.”
He nods, taking in every word and I again think of Arya. She’s so inquisitive and is at the age where she has no fear about asking questions. Come to think of it, all three of the kids are like that and I realize that’s probably because of how our parents raised us, as well as our multicultural and multigenerational upbringing. Damn, I miss being at home with all of them. It surprises me a little bit due to the fact that my trips home were rather infrequent, mostly around the holidays and if there was something special going on, like a birthday or anniversary. Outside of that, the day-to-day wasn’t part of who we were until Mom and Dad died.
“What’s that?” he asks, seeing the rosary poking out of one of the pockets I opened.
Grinning, I pull it out and toss a question right back at him. “Do you have any grandmas?”
He nods and says, “I only have one, but I have a great-grandma too!”
“Well, I have a nonnaandan abuela, which is Italian and Spanish for grandmother respectively, and my nonna gave me this set of rosary beads before I left on this last work trip. She had her priest bless it for me to help keep me safe.”
Fishing around the neckline of the character T-shirt he’s wearing, he pulls out a silver chain and I see a metallic cross dangling at the end. “That’s what my grandma did too! Only it was her pastor, not a priest. She gave it to me for my last birthday. I just turned eight.”
“My little sister is eight,” I confess.
I watch his eyes widen while I nod, grinning at him. “Yeah, my parents started having kids again after I was already grown and living on my own. Kinda cool, though. Until then, I was an only child.”
“That’s what I am. I want a little brother or even a sister, but Mommy says I’m going to be her one and only. I don’t have a Daddy anymore.”
“I’m sorry, little man. I don’t have one either, but I’m a grown up so while it still hurts that he’s gone, I had him around while I was growing up.”
I watch his eyes fill with tears as he nods. “He got very sick, so we came here to see some doctors. They couldn’t make him better again, but they tried very hard.”
Gulping at the raw emotion that’s evident on his face, I open my arms and ask, “Can I give you a hug? It’s what I did when I came home with Arya, Anniston, and Thad when I found out about my parents.”
Normally, I’d never offer something like that since the culture today is so vile with sick people preying on kids, but during our conversation, an attractive woman came up behind him and has been listening to us, occasionally wiping away tears as her little boy chatters away.
He doesn’t hesitate, he jumps into my arms, his little arms winding around my neck with surprising strength. I feel him shudder then he sighs out, “I’ve missed hugging my daddy, Mister.”
“And I’ve been missing the kids. My wife and I are raising them now, but I’ve been gone for work, so this is perfect for me aswell,” I whisper into his ear. “Thank you, little man, for hugging me back.”
“Do you have pictures?” he asks, pulling back.
