I look at Ziggy.
She looks back at me.
“I don’t want you to give up your—” I start but don’t finish.
Because she’s throwing herself into my arms and kissing me, gripping my head and holding me while her lips caressmine, pausing only to whisper quickI love yous andleast I can do for yous.
We startle apart when the Maserati’s engine roars to life beside us.
Goldie rolls down the window and waves. “You two might want to take it home,” she calls with a grin.
And then she’s gone.
“Home,” Ziggy says.
I look back at the front door of her parents’ house. “You’re good?”
“Mom’s on our side. She’ll either convince Dad, or she won’t, and I believe her when she says she’ll pick me. She has before.”
I wrap her in a hug, then swing her up into my arms to carry her to the Jeep. “Anyone would be a fool to not pick you.”
“They’d be a fool to not pickyou,” she replies.
For the first time in days, she’s smiling.
We’re not all the way there with her parents, but we will be.
And that’s what matters.
40
Ziggy
It feelsgood to breathe again.
Breathe. Laugh. Kiss. Snuggle. Make love. Kiss more. Laugh more. Snuggle more.
That’s how I spend the rest of my Naked Tuesday.
We’re dressed again as night falls, watching my favorite show over ice cream, when someone knocks hard and fast on the door.
Holt’s still moving slow on his foot, but he beats me to check it out.
Then gives me awhat’s this about?look as he pulls the door open and lets Miranda in.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her hazel eyes are wide. And she’s gasping for air like she ran the six miles here from her apartment.
I rise.
Jessica jumps to her paws and barks in alarm.
“What?” My brain goes to the dark place.
Dad had a heart attack.
The fight we had this morning wasn’t the first step in making up, it was the end.
We killed him.
