Learning Curves 1 - French Cooking 101 Read Online Free PDF Page B

to let go. His fingers dug on her hips as he rocked her back and forth, abandoning all pretense of control. Each thrust made her moan louder, and when he felt her clench around him, he let go, roaring his pleasure in her ears. He, who had never uttered more than a gasp during intercourse, actually roared.  
    Still holding her, he sat on the bed and laid down on his back, keeping her above him until she pushed up and rolled onto her side next to him. She was smiling. A new smile. A smile of contentment. So far, that was his favorite smile. He would do his best to see it again. Soon.  

    ❦

CHAPTER SEVEN
Peter

    INSTEAD OF COOLING HIM OFF, the walk back to the hotel stirred up a storm in the pool of anger and resentment Peter was trying to hide.  
    His sister kept telling him to let go of it, but he didn’t know how. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t help it. He was always angry. He was angry at the entire world. How could so many people be happy when he was so miserable? Hell, he was even angry at Kristina, his dead wife.  
    He was angry she had been unable to stop smoking before the doctors found spots on her lung.  
    He was angry that when she did stop, it had been too late.  
    He was angry that she had fought so hard for nothing.  
    Kristina had gone through all possible treatments. She had survived surgery. She had gone through countless rounds of radiation therapy, marveling at the end that she didn’t glow in the night. She held on as long as she could with the chemotherapy. Then one day, she had had enough and begged him to let her go.  
    That very same day, a shot of morphine had ended her suffering and left him an empty shell.
    Ever since, he went through the motions of life. He was “doing time,” just like a prisoner serving a life sentence. He counted the days, and then the weeks, and then the months. They added up to form a year, and then it started all over again. He knew he was being absurd. He should be able to continue his life and enjoy it. After all, he was in his prime. Thirty-five was young actually. He had a good income. He loved teaching; that was the only fun left in his life. Physically, he was absolutely perfect. He had replaced sex with sports. All the energy he used to invest in his sexual activities was spent in long and strenuous runs.  
    Good body, good mind, good income… On paper, his life was picture perfect. He soon came to realize he was a great catch. All his friends, after the customary six-month mourning period, tried to set him up with “this great woman that would be so perfect for you. You’re gonna love her!”  
    Who had come up with the notion that six months was an appropriate mourning period? Someone who hadn’t lost their soul mate. The girl next door who was his first best friend. The best friend who, over a summer, morphed into a chesty teenager and became his first crush. The best friend who then turned into a fabulous woman who was the love of his life. How could six months be enough time to heal from such a loss? How could a year be enough? They said that time healed all wounds. Well, not his.
    Only Mary seemed to understand him. She hadn’t bugged him or tried to cheer him up. For a time, she had shared his grief. After all, Mary had lost a friend too. She would come over to his place, feed him, and reminisce with him. She didn’t try to hurry him. Mary’s most amazing gift was her patience. She accepted that some things could not be changed nor rushed. Maybe that was what made her a great midwife. In any case, it made her a great sister.
    Then a few months ago, she had asked him if he remembered Summertime, the movie in which Katharine Hepburn plays an American who travels to Venice by herself for the holidays and gets her heart crushed by a lovely Italian man. Of course he remembered. It had been one of Kristina’s favorite movies. She and Mary had watched it countless times.
    Mary had explained that she wanted to celebrate her 40th birthday