Twelve Months

Sara stood barefoot in the kitchen with a tub of ice cream in one hand and a large spoon in the other. Although Cookie dough fudge mint chip wasn’t her favourite, it was what she had wanted at that exact moment in time. Even if she had never tasted it before, it was heavenly on her taste buds and the half eaten tub was justifiable proof.

Michael struggled in with another bag of baby shopping, the white carriers laden with suits, socks, scratch mitts and baby safe toys, all of which had some sort of a jingle to them. Behind him was a tall man dressed in a white boiler suit and matching cap. His name was sewn onto the suit, which buttoned up the centre, and the baby shop’s name was sewn onto his cap. He was carrying a large brown box, the effort from the lifting evident on his reddened face and clenched, white lips.

Another man followed them both, holding nothing more than a clipboard, again adorning the company name. He had a moustache and was short and skinny. His hair receded under his cap and his dirty black boots remained in the hall while his colleague set the box down against the couch. He scribbled something onto the sheet he had attached to the clipboard and tapped the pen eagerly.

After setting down the bags next to the couch, Michael thanked the man with a quick slap on his shoulder and followed him back to the door. “Sign here please,” the short man said monotonously, his day job obviously having turned him into a robotic machine and nothing more. Michael took the clipboard and scrawled his name next to the large, blue cross the man had splattered onto the page next to a dotted line.

“Thank you,” Sara called, her words muffled by melting ice cream as Michael clicked the door closed behind them. He leant against the door and hefted a sigh from his lungs, rolling his head against the wood until his eyes met Sara’s in the kitchenette beside them. “What?” she smiled, her eyes darting around the kitchen to avoid his gaze with her cheeky grin.

A smile spread across Michael’s face as he pushed himself from the door and stalked towards her in the kitchen. The sleeves of his smartly pressed blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows in an attempt to cool his body from the exertions of work, and with a quick shove, he slid them further up his arms. His face was wickedly innocent as he approached her, his mouth twitching as he tried to straighten his grin and hide it from her dazzling hazel eyes.

Michael reached out and gently took the tub of ice cream from Sara’s hands, the outside of the stiff cardboard carton wet with melted ice particles. Sara let out a whine of protest as Michael scooped out a flat spoonful and popped the spoon into his mouth. “That’s mine,” she told him, crossing her arms so they rested on her engorged abdomen. Michael deliberately pulled the spoon from his mouth slowly, his tongue scraping the metal as he did so, not leaving any remnants of the delicious frozen cream. With a sucking sound the spoon left his lips and he studied the spoon, twiddling it in the air before him.

“Well, see I thought I deserved a treat for carrying all of you’re shopping up here,” he paused to lick his lips before his eyes met hers once again, his eyebrow raising a little when his eyes widened mischievously and he took another scoop of the latte coloured dessert from the pot. Sara coughed out a laugh and she reached out to snatch the tub back with both hands.

“You took the elevator,” she corrected his exaggerated comment with a sarcastic air. Michael emptied the spoon into his mouth quickly and smiled, holding the cold, creamy substance on his tongue where it began to melt. “And give me my spoon,” Sara commanded playfully, stepping close to Michael and reaching out for the black handled cutlery.

Michael lifted his arm above his head and chuckled with his mouth closed, the warming dessert dripping from his mouth a little. Sara glared at Michael, narrowing her eyes and trying to force her smile from her face. “Ok, I’m sorry. Here,” Michael swallowed and offered her the spoon but snatched it back with a hearty laugh when she reached for it.

“You’re not funny Michael,” Sara told him unable to hide another smile that crept across her lips. Turning she pulled the wooden handled drawer open and took out another spoon identical to Michael’s. Spinning to him once again she leaned against the cold tiled surface, grinned triumphantly before plunging the metal scoop into the ice cream tub and gulping a large mouthful.

Defeated, Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and closed the gap between them. “Hey!” Sara weakly protested as he pulled the dessert from her hands once more and without taking his eyes from hers, gave himself another mouthful of the cookie flavoured cream. Sara’s eyes followed his hands as he slid the tub onto the counter and set the spoon down with a clatter as it hit the ceramic tiling. When she turned back to face him his face was inches from hers and her pulse raced beneath her skin, her entire body rushing with adrenaline and anticipation.

Michael pressed against her, pinning her to the worktop and caged her in with two massive arms as he rested his hands on the white tiles beside her. Sara giggled, knowing full well his intentions and gripped the sides of his face ready for her dessert. Michael leant forward with a sinful grin and pressed his lips to Sara’s smile, her hands pulling his face even closer in a crushing kiss. Sara opened her mouth and ice cream dribbled from Michael’s into hers as their tongues danced, coating her taste buds with the sweet, minty pudding.

Michael’s hands slid from the counter to Sara’s hips, his hands cool from holding the ice cream and the harsh tiles. Sara’s top rode up slightly when she reached her arms behind Michael’s neck, pulling his head closer, deepening the kiss further. Michael tasted like the ice cream but it was hinted with his usual tang that Sara enjoyed so much. She gasped slightly when his cool hands met her scorching skin, each and every tiny follicle prickling to attention upon her skin and sending a shiver up her spine.

Michael broke the kiss first, pulling back to marvel at Sara’s heavy lidded expression as she sucked in a much needed breath of air. She hummed contently at the sensations left in her mouth and opened her eyes to a smiling Michael. Her hands slid from his neck across his shoulders and rested in a pair on his chest, his darkly tattooed body visible through his shirt in the bright kitchen lighting.

“Where do you get this stuff, Michael?” Sara asked amused by his many talents that never ceased to amaze her. Michael quirked an eyebrow and twisted his head sideways with that sweet smile that made him so handsome.

“Are you complaining?” Michael teased, running his hands across her back and around her swollen stomach lazily. Sara’s face erupted with a toothy grin and she averted her eyes shyly, biting her bottom lip playfully with a lowered gaze. “I didn’t think so,” he whispered exultantly.

“I have to shower,” Sara laughed and pushed against Michael’s chest feebly, urging him to let her past. Michael stood fast, rocking from side to side on each foot nimbly as Sara tried to pass. She sighed with a unforced smile and rolled her eyes. “I mean it Michael. Let me past,” she giggled, pressing her entire body to his in an attempt to move him.

Michael suddenly dropped from before her and squatted on his toes in front of her. Rubbing his splayed hands over Sara’s belly he pressed his face to the thin material of her top that had divided from her bottoms during their kiss. Sara placed her hands against his soft, black hair and stroked at it gently, a proud smile playing across her lips.

“Hey baby, it’s daddy,” he said to her extended abdomen whilst looking back up to her and flashing her a smile. “I’m going to go build your crib,” he looked back to the smooth, round flesh next to his face, his breath catching on it and warming it in the room. “When mommy comes back, in a towel,” he added seductively, his voice a velvety whisper against Sara’s skin. He tilted his head back up to catch Sara’s amused face. “We’ll get you some more ice cream,” he said, winking at Sara before her stood and captured her mouth in another kiss.

Sara pressed her hands against his shoulders and their lips pulled apart as he sidestepped her and let her past. Smiling to herself Sara made her way to their bathroom and their en suite bathroom. Michael followed by halted his movements by the couch where the delivery man had left the large stapled cardboard box. He tugged against it and laid it on the floor in front of the couch with a thud, the wooden bars in the box clattering together as the round dowels rolled around.

Exactly four hours later, Sara had showered, made and eaten dinner and was busy getting ready for bed. Michael on the other hand was still sat like a teddy bear with his legs spread open and various lengths of wood scattered between them on their wood effect flooring. His shirt had been wrenched open by three buttons, his shoes had been discarded behind him and a scrap of crinkled paper rustled in his hand as he studied the drawings.

Sara snaked a flat hand around his shoulder and down his chest. “Come to bed,” she pleaded, pressing a kiss to his ear lobe. Michael’s response to her advances was non existent as his eyes darted between a piece of wood and the diagram in his hand. His mouth turned up at the corner and he frowned. “Michael…” Sara warned against his ear.

“I am an engineer,” he said dumbfounded, slapping the back of one hand into the one-sheet instructions he held in the other. “I build skyscrapers for a living and I can’t even build my baby a crib!” he exclaimed angry, balling the instructions between his hands and throwing them into the pile of pine planks before him.

“We can fix it tomorrow,” Sara soothed, trailing her hands down his arms until she reached his hand. Taking it in hers she tugged at him, encouraging him to stand. Michael grunted in response, his blood boiling beneath his skin at how something to trivial could beat him so easily. “I’ll call Lincoln tomorrow. He must of built one for LJ,” Sara told him smoothing a caring hand over his brow and down the side of his face.

“I suppose,” Michael pouted, taking a deep calming breath. “It’s just…” he winced, his teeth clearly crushed together in his mouth.

“I know, it’s mocking you,” Sara teased, biting her tongue between her straight teeth and wiggling her eyebrows. Michael laughed and shook his head, his shoulders jiggling with the movement. “Come on,” Sara began, unbuttoning his shirt slowly with a sly smile and a lick of her lips. “Let’s go to bed,” she winked, pulling him backwards down the hall to their bedroom by his shirt edges.