“I think that can be arranged,” I answered.
“Awesome,” he muttered, and dipped in for a kiss.
I happily accepted his kiss (it was wet this time, only a little, but it was a nice little).
We headed out.
He went to the restaurant.
I went to Lucia.
Our parents (and Luke) ordered the Bolognese and decided on a gender split: the women to the Botanical Gardens, the men to some Harley dealership (and this meant Robbie spoke words while we were gone).
They left and SC was normal again, or as normal as SC could get.
Lucia had no problem with me baking while she cooked after my shift was over.
So oddly, even after that latest drama, life was good.
Actually great.
Regardless that my relationship was going so fast, my hair was metaphorically on fire.
Later that night, after Gabe wisely took us to The Porch for dinner (casual, hearty bar food, sports on TV everywhere, quiet enough Mom and Shelby could gab, sporty enough Mike could keep an eye on all the scores, lowkey enough Robbie was comfortable—see! Gabe was a miracle worker!), we wandered into his house.
Mike had finagled his wife being a worried, protective mom into a very long weekend at the Biltmore resort.
Mom and Robbie were staying at mine.
Arthur had reported he’d have a full brief on Amy and Dexter and his crew tomorrow.
This was good, because Duane shared that the drops were supposed to take place on Saturday night, so we’d have time (though, not much) to find out who we were dealing with, also time to plan whatever it was we were going to do.
And Raye was on with Jinx, because Duane had copied his plate number from some old surveillance video at the motel, therefore we had Noah’s address, we were ready to roll with that, but Jinx was getting cold feet.
Last, Gabe and I were home early enough to have plenty of time for a thorough sex sesh, then maybe we could clock in at seven hours of sleep before we got up to have another sex sesh.
“The moms seem to get along well,” I noted as I put my purse on his island. “And the dads have managed to sync in on the translation of their grunts, so that’s looking good too.”
Gabe shot me an I-get-what-you’re-doing, I’m-still-not-over-it look.
Guess we were synced too.
Hmm.
He threw himself on one of his couches. “Only good thing about today is, seems like there’s a more than healthy chance, we have a girl, she’ll have your hair.”
With what he said, and how good he looked lounged on his couch, even though I really, really needed sleep, I was thinking maybe our sex sesh should go long that night.
I came to a stop looking down at him.
“Are you worried how heavy, how quickly this is getting?” I asked.
“No. Are you?”
“I feel like my hair is on fire.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “I’m doing it wrong. Other parts of you are supposed to catch fire.”
