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The night was gold dust and gossamer, the liquor an oak barrel scotch neat, and Blossom had nothing but time. She savored the smoke as the swallowed her scotch and smiled at her reflection in the mirror behind the cherrywood bar. The amber lamplight softened her long red hair, and the liquor’s burn made her pink eyes glisten with a liminal haze in between sensual and soporific. Even the patrons’ voices were nothing but a heady hypnosis far away and standing guard between her and the chaotic world beyond. She could hardly remember what peace and quiet felt like, and she’d sooner be drunk on this serenity than the Lagavulin.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Blossom’s stomach clenched at the sound of that mellifluous voice directly behind her. His body heat radiated like an active volcano: simmering and still right now, but not for long. “I was,” she quipped.
A slim body slipped into the barstool next to hers. The tailored suit did him every favor, as did the rare lack of a tie that allowed for a more lax treatment of his shirt buttons. Liquid crimson eyes held her in his crosshairs, and she froze.
“Blossom,” he said, setting his own drink on the bar with an air of permanence.
“Brick.” The scotch burned Blossom’s throat going down, but not hot enough.
His grin betrayed a hint of teeth, white and sharp.
“Can I get you anything?” the attractive bartender asked Blossom.
“You can bring him another,” she said.
“I’ll take a glass of the Bordeaux.” Brick pushed his empty tumbler toward the bartender.
“Of course.” The bartender cleared the old glass, and neither Brick nor Blossom spared him a glance.
“How about now?” Brick asked while the bartender disappeared to retrieve his wine.
Blossom’s eyes lingered on the styled bangs that hung in his heartbreaking eyes. “I’ll let you know.”
The bartender returned with Brick’s wine and left them alone to their universe. His adroit fingers held the wine glass’ delicate stem with intention and care as he swirled it. Blossom bit her lip.
“What brings you here?” he asked like he didn’t care even as his gaze trailed down the plunging neckline of her little black dress.
She grasped his chin and lifted his gaze to hers with a sly smile. “Rare night off.”
His eyes burned as she dragged her thumb over his bottom lip, and when she tried to pull away, he caught her wrist. “Lucky me.”
“That’s presumptuous.”
He laughed, and she felt it in every buzzing cell in her body. “Liar.”
This close, Blossom could smell his cologne. Just when she thought he might come closer though, he released her and went back to his wine like it was the most interesting thing in this bar. Despite herself, she twirled a tress of hair around her finger and silently counted to five while she waited for her heartbeat to return to normal.
“What about you?” she asked, returning to her drink. “What brings you out tonight?”
He grinned as he took a savoring sip of wine. In the warm jeweled lighting, the few threads of grey in his burnished copper hair gleamed silver. “Apparently, I’m turning 40.”
“And this is how you’re celebrating? Drinking alone at a bar?”
“Looks like it.”
Blossom ignored the way his eyes lingered on her profile. “What about your brothers?”
“Probably at home with their families. Married with kids, you know how it goes.”
“Mm. I’m drinking alone at a bar too.”
“Right, a rare night off, you mentioned.”
Blossom ran her finger over the rim of his wine glass. Tiny frostlings crept down the glass like ivy. “Well, then,” she said, plucking the glass out of his hand and taking a full sip of the chilled wine, “I suppose we’re alone together.”
Brick’s thumb at the corner of her mouth was so warm she gasped. It was gone as soon as it had appeared, and the drop of wine he’d caught along with it. Blossom watched as he brought the digit to his mouth and licked it clean.
“I suppose we are,” he said, breaking the hypnotic pull.
Blossom flushed. She supposed she deserved that one.
“Can I get you two anything else?” the bartender asked politely.
Blossom flashed him a curt smile. “No, thank you. I’ve had enough for one night. Please send the bill to my room.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She got up and gathered her clutch and phone. The entire time, Brick watched her like she might catch fire if he looked away.
“Brick,” she said primly.
“Blossom,” he returned. “Turning in?”
“It’s late.”
He ran his finger over the rim of his wine glass, and the frost vines evaporated under his touch. “Is it? I lost track of the time.”
“Well, you still have a couple hours left of your birthday. I’m sure you’ll find some way to enjoy them.”
“I’m sure I will.”
With that, she left him to his wine and headed for the elevator that would take her to the topmost floor, where she had rented a room for the evening. A honeymooning couple giggled as they dashed into the elevator after her, holding hands and dolled up to the nines as they whispered to each other and completely ignored Blossom. She smiled and moved to the far corner to give them some space.
But before the doors closed, a hand shot in between them and forced them back open. Brick sauntered into the elevator and perched against the back wall next to Blossom, but he didn’t say a word or even look at her. In his defense, the young couple making out like it was their last night on Earth commanded attention. Their soft giggles and sweet words reached Blossom’s Super hearing, and she bit her tongue not to laugh.
Finally, after nearly thirty floors, the doors opened and the honeymooners flooded out, nearly tripping over their skirts as they stumbled down the hall to their room and fumbled for the key rather poorly. Blossom followed them out, and Brick followed her at a sedate pace.
“Young love,” she quipped as she arrived at her room at the end of the hall.
“Disgusting,” Brick said.
“Now who’s the liar?” She opened the door on the first try as the honeymooners’ laughter grew louder in their repeated failed attempts.
Before she could push the door open, Brick’s hand closed over hers on the knob. Warm lips pressed against the shell of her ear, and she shivered. “Caught me.”
Blossom couldn’t hide her smile anymore and yanked him inside with a burst of Super strength that sent him crashing into the wall with a crack. She pinned him by the wrists before he could move and pressed herself flush against him. “Damn right I did.”
He came alive when she kissed him. Red sparks jumped in between them as he pushed back against her, but she didn’t offer an inch as she shackled him to the wall and held him there for her pleasure for a few glorious seconds. A low growl was her only warning before he got serious and used his explosive Super strength against her. Blossom gasped when her back met the opposite wall.
“We used to be like them,” he said, his voice husky with their kiss and their power.
“You and I?” Blossom ran her hands over his face, in his soft hair she loved even more with its silver veins. “We’re not like anyone.”
Like a struck match, Brick ignited above her and kissed her hard. Her hands fumbled at his belt as he slid her underwear down and off beneath her black skirt. They didn’t even bother with the rest, too intoxicated with the night and the memories and each other to waste another minute. Super or not, there was something incredibly hot about how he could lift her up with his bare hands and hold her there against the wall as he fucked her like they were ten years younger and just as desperate for each other.
“You’re goddamn right we’re not,” Brick said as he pushed in deeper. “Fuck, Blossom—”
The plaster cracked behind her, and it went straight to her core as she tightened her grip around his narrow waist and yanked his hair back so she could kiss him properly.
“You want me,” she said, breathy and crumbling with every move he made.
“Yes,” he moaned against her lips.
“You love me—ah!”
He bit her bottom lip hard, the cheater. “More than anything.”
Blossom whimpered as he held her just right to melt in his arms. Ecstasy: every moment, every touch, every Earth shattering push. He knew her precipice so well it was nothing to plunge her over it and catch her as she fell. With a shudder, she kissed his ear, his temple, his mouth. “You chose me.”
Heat seared her thighs where he held her, and his gorgeous eyes held hers at the expense of all others. “You’re my wife,” he said.
Blossom’s pride flared at that spell in his voice, as powerful as the first time he had ever cast it, and she rewarded him with a clenching embrace that broke him. With a muffled cry, he buried his face in her neck and bit down as he came. The air shimmered around them, Super heated, and Blossom summoned frost to her lips and fingertips as she threaded them through his hair and whispered softly.
After a few moments, his grip loosened and she slipped back to the floor still in her strappy heels. She appraised the entrance to their hotel room: a wrecking ball may have checked in for the night in their stead. “We didn’t even make it past the threshold.”
His laugh came out more like a wheeze as he fixed his pants and leaned one arm on the cracked wall to catch his breath. “Your act worked a little too well on me.”
“The role-play was your idea.”
His gaze trailed down her figure. “No wonder it was perfect.”
Blossom ran her hand over his chest, damp with sweat. One by one, she popped the buttons off his red dress shirt. “Satisfied already?”
With every button she popped off, his face slackened as the afterglow faded and his desire for her returned with a vengeance. Blossom fought the urge to squirm under his heady gaze.
“That sounded like a challenge,” he said, physically straining not to grab her.
The last button was off, and Blossom ran her palms over his smooth skin to shoulders, pushing the shirt and his blazer off. “You know me so well.”
Before he could respond, she had his shirt off and flew him across the room in a blaze of pink, where he hit the bed with a whoosh. For as long as she lived, Blossom was sure she would never get tired of the absolute high she felt looming over her husband about to have her wicked way with him, and the unadulterated passion and pride with which he watched her doing it.
She pulled the tie out of her hair and let it tumble over her shoulder. Slowly, the straps of her dress slipped off, leaving her bare from the waist up. “Happy birthday, Brick.”
It was a miracle the guests in the room below theirs didn’t file a complaint with the front desk when the bed gave out.
Brick pulled his black Aston Martin into the circular driveway of Princess Morbucks’ seaside vacation home on the Sonoma coast. He cut the engine and sat there as Blossom finished texting a work email on her phone. When he didn’t budge, she put her phone away and looked at him quizzically.
“Brick?”
He sighed and leaned his head back against the black leather head rest. “Do we have to go in there?”
Her fingers through his linen shirt were cool to the touch, and he repressed a shiver as she leaned close. “Are you pouting?”
There was a smile in her voice that he chose to ignore and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t tease me right now.”
She smiled for real and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. You know I love you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s my birthday weekend.”
“And the weekend is nearly over. Hey.” She touched his face and turned him toward her. “Are you okay?”
He searched her eyes for any hint of a ploy, but he found none. They were such a lovely shade of rose, unlike anything he had ever seen on another person, and they were honest. She had always afforded him her honesty since they became reacquainted, and for that, he would have given her anything she wanted. “I miss this,” he said, letting her see a glimmer of the vulnerability he was sadly so good at keeping under lock and key.
“What do you miss?” she asked.
“Us. Time. Our time. One weekend isn’t enough. We shouldn’t need some excuse to take off.”
She looked at him like she really heard him, but before she could respond, something Super-powered and little girl-sized hit the driver’s side window.
“Daddy! You’re back!”
Brick nearly jumped out of his own skin and coughed up smoke. Blossom was out the passenger side door faster than the naked eye could see, and she quickly yet carefully peeled her five-year-old daughter off the side of Brick’s beloved car.
“Hey, no hello for me, Briar?” Blossom hiked Briar up on her hip, and Briar blinked dark scarlet eyes far too savvy for her age.
“Maaaaaybe,” she said, aloof.
“Oh, I see how it is. Then I’ll just have to give you a big frosty kiss!”
Brick got out of his car and watched his grown-ass wife and mother of his children stoop to a five-year-old’s level and blow an icy raspberry on Briar’s neck, freezing half of her solid. Briar squealed in surprise or delight and leaped out of Blossom’s arms. She bent the ice off her skin to gather in her hands, and blew out even more with each peal of laughter as she began launching Super snowballs at Blossom.
Brick caught one that went awry in his bare hand before it could smack into his car, and it evaporated to steam almost instantly under his infernal power. “Briar, where’s your brother—oof!”
He got an armful of little girl wrapped up in a rose-red blur for his complacency and fell back on his ass. Instinct and old habits stoked furious fire in his lungs, but it fizzled to nothing as his daughter laughed and plied him with kisses, smearing pink lipstick all over his cheeks and chin.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded. “Is that a tiara?”
“You bet your grumpy old ass it is.” Princess emerged from the house looking far too fabulous for a Sunday afternoon at home. “Swarovski crystal. You like?”
“I like!” Briar chimed in.
Blossom grinned. “She does look fabulous.”
Princess flipped her stupidly luscious hair. “In this house, every girl is a princess. I should know.”
Unfortunately, Blossom found that funny and laughed along with Princess. As convenient as it was that his best friend and his wife had become as thick as thieves over the years, it often resulted in a battle of the sexes that saw him giving up far too much ground to the both of them. Some wars, however, were not worth fighting. Not when they both looked at him like he’d won something by picking himself off the ground with Briar tucked under his arm like a Corgi.
“Oh Brick, that’s a great color on you,” Princess gushed. “Pink is the new black.”
“Please, pink never went out of style.” Blossom winked coyly at Brick, and his pathetic heart beat a little bit faster.
“God, you’re so right,” Princess said. “Listen to your mom, Briar. She’s the smartest person I know, and that’s saying something.”
Brick ignored the playful jab and wiped the pink lipstick smears off his face.
“Daddyyyyyy,” Briar whined.
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me, Briar,” Brick said. But he took one look at her big scarlet eyes and her cute ponytail she insisted on growing out because she wanted to be as pretty as Mommy and Mommy was the prettiest girl in the whole world (which, true), and he caved like a bendy straw. “Fine.”
“Yes!” Briar flew out of his hold and plopped down on his shoulders like a queen on her throne, and Brick held her in place by her ankles.
“Oh, cheers, Briar.” Princess raised her wine glass to no one at all and took a satisfied sip.
“Hey, where’s Blaze?” Blossom asked.
“Who?” Princess said.
“Ha ha. Please tell me he didn’t burn anything down this time.”
Princess waved her off and headed back inside. “He’s fine, don’t worry. But he didn’t want me to dress him up for some totally insane reason. Am I right, Briar?”
“You’re always right, Aunt Prin!”
Brick rolled his eyes so hard he could see his brain short-circuiting in his skull. “Jesus Christ, what have I done.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you managed to make an impeccable daughter,” Princess quipped.
“Nope, that one’s on me,” Blossom said.
They laughed again, and Brick felt the small part of his soul that wasn’t bonded to Blossom’s wither and die.
“This way, Daddy.” Briar tugged on his perfectly styled hair to steer him left once they were past the foyer, and Brick automatically changed course.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Did you have a good time with Aunt Princess?”
“Uh-huh!”
“How many new clothes did she buy you?”
“Um, this many?” Briar waggled all ten of her fingers in his face.
“Cool,” he said.
Not cool.
Princess was single-handedly turning his children into fashion-forward little snobs. And while Brick would never abide any child of his looking like some snot-nosed, slobbering baby, a part of him worried whether he and Blossom were spoiling them too much. Blossom insisted it was fine so long as the gifts came from Princess and not from them, and they learned how to say thank you and pick only a few to keep from the vast collection so the rest could go to charity, so maybe it really was fine. He wouldn’t know, having never received much from his own father growing up, let alone a cool rich aunt.
In the living room, a skinny eight-year-old boy wearing a red baseball cap too big for his head slept on the leather sofa with his back to Brick and Briar when they entered. Brick checked behind him for any sign of Blossom, but she was obliviously chattering away in the kitchen with Princess, probably indulging in a glass of that rosé Princess had been drinking. Briar had fallen very quiet on his shoulders, and he squeezed her ankles conspiratorially.
Heat churned in Brick’s lungs, gathered pressure in his cheeks, and burst from his lips in a tight ball. His sleeping son’s arm shot up and caught the ball of fire before it could hit him in the back and incinerate the sofa. Briar whined in disappointment, like she’d wanted to see her big brother’s pants catch on fire.
“Hi, Dad.”
“It’s four in the afternoon, Blaze,” Brick said. “Why the hell are you sleeping?”
Blaze snuffed out the fireball and turned over on the sofa with a lazy yawn. He pulled off his cap that used to be Brick’s, scratched his short red hair, and slipped it on again backwards. Pretty, almost feminine fuchsia eyes blinked blearily up at his father and little sister towering over him.
“Aunt Prin made me heat up the pool this morning,” he said.
Of course she fucking would.
Leave it to Princess to choose swimming in an unheated pool over the goddamned ocean that was literally her backyard on a whim and putting his pyromantic son to work.
“Did she pay you?” Brick asked.
Blaze shrugged. “Nah. But she promised me a favor. Anything I want.”
Brick cracked a smile. “Well played.”
He was learning fast. Perhaps too fast. Oh well—he was Blossom’s son; she would have to deal with him when the time came.
A loud bark of laughter from the kitchen preceded a sharp and rather chilly tug on Brick’s hair. “What’s so funny?” Briar asked.
Brick took a deep breath and tried not to think about the damage his daughter’s ice powers were doing to his hair. “Let’s find out. Blaze, get your ass off that couch.”
Blaze got up with minimal grumbling, and Briar leaped from Brick’s shoulders to his. “Sleepy head!”
Blaze scrunched up his freckled face in a way that made him look his very young age despite all his best efforts. “Briar, quit it!”
“Make me!”
“I will.”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Yes-huh!”
“Nuh-uhhhhh!” Briar hugged him tight and burst with frost.
“My hair!” Blaze flashed fuchsia in a panic and shimmering heat rose from his shoulders, melting Briar’s ice. She laughed and took off flying, and he was quick to follow. “Get back here!”
Brick considered stopping them, decided it one hundred percent wasn’t his problem, and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of Princess’ wine.
“Did you find Blaze?” Blossom asked when Brick entered the enormous marble kitchen.
Brick opened his mouth to respond when Briar and Blaze blasted into the kitchen in a burst of scarlet and fuchsia. Blossom dissolved in a blur of cotton candy pink and reappeared with two tiny Supers in each hand dangling from their collars.
“She started it!” Blaze exclaimed at the same time as Briar said, “He started it!”
“And I’m ending it,” Blossom said in a tone that brooked no argument. She looked between her two children, contrite and expecting her punishment.
Blaze looked to Brick for a lifeline, but he held his son’s gaze with unwavering indifference: if he was going to fuck around like a little baby, then he would be treated like a little baby.
“What do you say?” Blossom asked.
“Sorry,” Briar muttered.
Blaze wiped his nose. “Yeah, sorry Mom. Sorry Aunt Prin. We didn’t mean to almost wreck your house.”
Princess shrugged. “Whatever, kid.”
Brick shot her a withering look. “Really, though?”
Princess poured herself more wine.
Blossom caved like the sap she was and hugged her children close, showering them both with kisses. “I missed you guys!”
Blaze and Briar bravely put up with their mother’s effusive love for a few seconds until she put them down.
“Do you have something to say to your father?” Blossom asked.
Both Blaze and Briar beamed at Brick, and he repressed a cringe. “Happy birthday, Dad!” they said in creepy-cute unison.
Brick took one look at them and grabbed Princess’ arm. “Princess.”
“Say no more.” Princess poured him a generous glass of wine. Unfortunately, she also looped her arm around his and hugged him. “Happy birthday, hot stuff.”
“Kill me.” Brick downed his wine.
“You are so dramatic. Runs in the family, obviously,” Princess said. She kissed his cheek and wiped her red lipstick off after.
They hung out in the kitchen drinking wine while Blaze and Briar entertained themselves talking Blossom’s ear off about every single thing they did this long weekend. Like a champ, she listened and enthusiastically responded to it all, while Brick sighed and thanked whatever gods didn’t exist for the gift of wine and Princess.
When eventually Blaze climbed onto Brick’s lap and fell asleep again, Blossom decided it was time to leave. Brick carefully shoveled Blaze and Briar into the backseat of his Aston Martin and buckled them up. “Keep your shit under control,” he warned them.
Briar beamed. Her energy knew no limits. “Okay, Daddy!”
Blaze crossed his arms and promptly went back to sleep without a care in the world.
It took another ten minutes to pry Blossom away from Princess as they embraced and confessed their undying love for each other and, like, almost made out probably because there was nothing in the world better than a positive female friendship, as Blossom was fond of reminding him.
By the time they arrived at their suburban Citiesville home, Blaze and Briar were passed out cold. Once Brick and Blossom put them to bed, they sat together in the living room with a blanket between them.
“Hey,” Blossom said as she leaned against his side on the sofa admiring the garden through their floor to ceiling windows, “do you want to continue what we were talking about earlier? About there not being enough time for us?”
Brick had an arm around Blossom, and he could smell her perfume. “Not really.”
“Okay.”
They lapsed into silence for a bit, and Brick squeezed her shoulder. She said nothing. He shifted under the blanket. “I mean, I’m just saying.”
“Saying what?”
He scowled and ran a hand through his hair. Her stony gaze made him shiver. “I love them.”
“I know you do.”
“I would die for them.”
“I know you would.”
Brick gritted his teeth and looked her in the eye. “I’d die for you too.”
She touched his cheek and waited for him to meet her gaze. “You’ll never have to.”
“I know. You’re stronger than that.”
She held her breath and he held her. There were memories here, history, a trust they had bled for to earn. But he knew she meant it and so did he, and that was everything. He shuddered, weak like he never was with anyone but her.
“Yeah, I am,” Blossom said. “Hey.” She took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles. “We have time. You have me. I love you so much, I can’t even catch my breath.”
“I know you do,” he said, his throat constricting.
“And if you want to take more time for us, we can do that. You just have to talk to me.”
“You’re busy, and the kids…”
Her fingers in his hair were a cool balm. He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not too busy for you. I love you, Brick.”
Her confession always floored him, no matter how many times she gave it. When he kissed her, she was soft and cool, and she kissed him back. “Let’s do it, then. Take more time. Not because it’s my birthday, but just because.”
“Okay. I’d like that.”
“Princess can take them.”
“Princess spoils them.”
“Who gives a fuck?”
Blossom laughed. “I do. Don’t be an ass.”
“Well, we need a nanny or something. Boomer and Bubbles can do it.”
“Boomer and Bubbles have their own kids.”
“So they have experience.”
Blossom laughed again and snuggled closer to him. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m right.”
Blossom sighed dramatically and buried her face in his chest. “I guess you are.”
He grinned and held her close. She smelled like lavender when he kissed her head. “Blossom.”
She smiled and snaked her hand around his neck. “Brick.”
When he kissed her, he gave her all of himself. How could he have lived for so long without her to share everything with? What would be the point?
“What do you think about the Seychelles?” Blossom asked.
“Hm?”
“We could go diving, lie on the beach, you know. Just…away.”
He pictured it: Blossom in a bikini on the white sand, greeting the sunset with champagne, or under the sea SCUBA diving with creatures most people could never even fathom in their lives. And he smiled. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
She kissed him softly, and she held his entire heart in her hands. “It’s a date.”
They spent the rest of the night in each others’ arms, alone together, and Brick couldn’t remember a better birthday in all his life.