I gather Jester and go curl up on the couch to watch TV. I should work on something for the store—social media, accounting, anything.
Except I can’t brain that hard at this moment.
All I want to do is not think about anything except surviving until Des reaches a point in his work where he can stop and talk to me about whateverthisis. Or will be.
It’s nearly noon when he emerges from the kitchen and stands in front of the sofa. Automatically, I scoot over a little and pat the cushion next to me, like I always did in the past.
Old habits die hard and this house has felt exceedingly large and empty without his presence.
Desi sits and I know this might make me a little needy, but I turn around and lay my head in his lap so I can look up into his eyes while we talk. We’ve done a lot of talking like this over the years.
“Done?” I ask.
“Almost. After lunch, I need to look up a couple of things about registering non-profit corporations with the state. Once I have those papers filed, then I can file for his Federal Identification Number with the IRS. It’ll take time to get the applications through the county and state level for the historic designations, but with the graveyard on the property, that’s basically a formality. It’s practically guaranteed he’ll get the designations.”
That’s not a sure thing. “But not completely guaranteed?”
“I’ll make sure it goes through. We can drum up enough support in the town to give statements at the public hearings. Once it’s settled at the county level, we can push it up to state and there won’t be any objections.”
“What if that doesn’t happen?”
“It will. It’s mostly so we can get his property taxes reduced. All the other plans can still proceed even before that’s completed.” He lays out everything he’s accomplished so far, literally in less than twenty-four hours, and I can’t help but be amazed.
He was always smart. That’s one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place, that we could have actualconversationson a wide variety of topics. And he never made me feel dumb, either. He wasn’t an arrogant smart-ass. Just a sweet, funny, smart, handsome guy.
Once he finishes, a natural pause follows and he watches my expression for a moment. “Anything,” he says. “I’ll do it for you.”
I have been thinking about this while he was working. “I need you home every weekend, and as many nights as possible. I need complete transparency from you when you have to be away. Unless you’re in court or with a client, if I want to video chat, we do.”
He nods. “Done.”
“If you have to travel with any other attorneys, you room by yourself.”
Another nod.
“Even before we’re officially married—if we get to that point—when you’re away from town, you’ll wear your wedding band and keep it on.”
He smiles. “You were never territorial before. I like that.”
The snark flies free and I don’t try to rein it in. “You never left me before.”
His smile fades. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I don’t ding him for the apology. “I might throw this in your face from time to time. You need to accept that. And don’t be shocked if Mom and Dad—or anyone else—gives you an unholy ration of hell for leaving me. Or tries to talk me out of taking you back while right in front of your face.”
“I’ll deserve it and accept every bit of it.”
He certainly sounds like a guy willing to walk through fire to prove himself. “I will need your travel schedule when you have to leave. Preferably in advance. If I ever decide I want to go with you on a trip, even at the last minute, I get no arguments about it.” I know this last point is petty. “And I want full access to your cell phones—work and personal. Not just the phones, but the bills, too, so I can see the phone records.”
“I’ll also give you my e-mail, social media, and other passwords. Just don’t tell anyone about seeing my work stuff. That’s a breach of confidentiality and could get me terminated at best, and sued at worst.”
“I would never do anything to get you in trouble.” I’ll probably never ask to see all those things anyway. Not his work ones. Still, I want the option on the table in case I think I need it.
I also want him thinking I’ll ask to see them at any time. That he’s volunteering unlimited access to me tells me there’s nothing to see on them that would upset me.
“Will you come to Miami with me to help me pack and move?” he asks.
I wish I could promise him that but a little common sense helps me pull the brakes.
