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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Fanfiction · #2042975
"What I wouldn't give just to hold her..."
         "Sweetheart, that was, wonderful." Forrest said, leaning back in his chair, his hands on the armrests on his wooden chair, that sat at the head of the long, wood table.
         "Thank you, Honey." I replied, as his steel eyes glanced over at me, looking me up and down.
         "What'd your boyfriend give you today?" he asked, teasingly.
         I'm the teacher at the one-room schoolhouse for Franklin County, and one of my students, Billy, likes to give me things, and tell me I'm pretty. Every day. "He gave me this."
         I walked over to where my husband was sitting. He pushed out his chair and patted his lap for me to sit down. My arm around his shoulders, I handed him the whittled cross. "That boy is gonna make some woman very happy one day." Forrest said, chuckling. He set the cross down on the table, nuzzling my neck. "And damn sure it ain't gonna be you..." I could feel his lips twisting into a smile on my skin as he kissed at my neck.
         "Watch that mouth of yours, Mr. Bondurant." I giggled as he rested his head against my chest.
         Forrest didn't say anything more, we just sat there in silence as the snow gently began to fall outside. Without saying a word, I got up and cleared the table, and proceeded to clean up the kitchen. I heard the door of the station creak open and a gust of cold air blew in. I peered around the corner from the kitchen and saw Forrest, smoking his cigar before bed.
         In the three years that we'd been married, almost every night went this way, with hardly no variation. Forrest liked his routine, he liked things the same every day, with the exception of the meal placed before him. His cigars were always the same brand, bought from the same store, on the same day every week. He liked his same, old clothes, and always preferred them to the new, stiff, starched shirts that I bought for him when I went to Richmond a few months ago. "You coming to bed soon, Angel Baby?" he asked, peering around the corner of the kitchen doorway.
         "Yes, honey. I'm just drying the last pot."
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