Beck spins around in the barstool at the island and opens his arms to me. I kick off my heels and walk into his embrace, taking his mouth in a filthy, licking kiss that’s so good he growls when I cut it short. I dance out of his hold and over to Cal, who’s tending to the pot on the stove.
I wrap my arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder. “You know you’re supposed to just let it simmer at this point, right?”
“That’s what I told him,” Beck says.
“You’re supposed to be slicing jalapenos for the cornbread, Beckham, not worrying about what’s happening in my pot.”
“I did that while you were busy doing all that unnecessary stirring, Drake.”
Cal turns around to confirm his story, throwing me a distracted kiss in the process.
“Excuse me, sir.”
He pulls his attention from the cutting board in front of Beck and gives it to me. “Yes, pet?”
“Do you want to give me a proper greeting or should I just pack my bags now?”
Beck snorts a laugh while Cal growls his displeasure at the suggestion. He scoops me up, plopping me on the island and positioning himself between my legs. His hands move to my face, cupping it gently as he treats me to a tender kiss. When it’s done, I feel like Beck did when I ended ours, squirmy and dissatisfied.
“No fun being teased is it, gorgeous?”
“Shut up, Beckham,” I gripe, squealing when his fingertips appear at my sides, poised for tickling. I immediately start laughing and trying to push him away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I wheeze, and then when that doesn’t work, “I have news! Don’t tickle me. I have news!”
That does the trick.
He releases me and rounds the counter, coming to stand by Cal. “What is it?”
I split a wide grin between the two of their adoring, perfect faces. “They’re closing the investigation!”
Four arms reach for me, pulling me into an embrace where I can’t tell what hand belong to which man and it doesn’t matter because every touch, every squeeze, every second they hold me is filled with the promise of a future where there will always be enough time, enough light, and enough love.
EPILOGUE 2: CAL
Two Years Later
“That’s the last of it.”
My announcement draws the attention of Selene and Isis. They’re in the middle of the bedroom I’ve just officially finished moving Isis into, hands on their hips as they survey the set up and discuss what she wants changed.
I can’t know for sure, but I’m certain Imani had Beck doing the same thing in her room earlier. We worked hard to make sure their individual bedrooms met the girls’ standards and fit their personalities, but they’re teenagers, so things are always subject to change.
“Thanks, Cal,” Isis says, leaving Selene to step over the stack of boxes between us and give me a hug. The simple show of affection warms my heart. Selene beams at us, and I know we’re both thinking about the many embraces we’ve shared with Isis and Imani that marked the end of our time together. For years, hugs meant goodbye, but now that Selene has officially adopted them, hugs are exactly what they’re supposed to be.
Tender squeezes that end when you want them to.
This one is quick, ending when Beck shouts that the pizza has arrived.
“Thank God!” Isis shouts, stepping out of my hold and rushing out of the room.
“Don’t run down those stairs,” Selene yells when the hall is suddenly filled with the sounds of racing footsteps and the girls arguing about who is going to get the first slice of pepperoni.
They don’t slow down at all. By the time Selene and I make it downstairs, the boxes are open and they’re dancing around with triangles of melted cheese, meat and bread in hand.
“I tried to get them to wait for plates,” Beck says, shaking his head.
“We were hungry!” Imani defends.
Isis pulls a pepperoni from the slice and pops it in her mouth. “Yeah, moving is hard work.”
