“I love to be bad.” I skim my lips up her neck, tickling her.
She giggles softly, seductively. “And maybe a little bit good?”
“Only for you.”
“I can live with that.”
I begin to lead her back to the showing, but I feel Liv tug on my hand.
“What’s wrong?” A pang of worry vibrates in my gut.
“I just want to show you something before we go back.”
“Oh?”
She opens a storage door that’s tucked away in the corner. “I didn’t have any other place to put it.” She flicks on the light, and in the middle of the small room sits the Bowman’s fucking bike. “I know he would want you to have it.”
My jaw drops. “Liv, for real?” I rush over to sit on it. It’s a fucking thing of beauty. A twin-cam Harley Davidson tricked out in white with a full-wrap rear fender and a custom exhaust. I have lusted over his bikes for years, and this one is my all-time favorite.
“Yes, for real. I can’t ride it, and it's a shame to just let it sit in storage.”
“Yes, it fucking is.” I wrap my hands around the mini ape hanger handlebar grips and squeeze.
Liv stands next to me, my beautiful girl all dressed up with a wistful expression on her face. “You look good on it.”
“You’ll look good on it, too.” I slide my arm around her waist and pull her near. “He’ll be happy we’re riding it together. He told me once he had a dream of you riding on the back of my bike.”
“When did he tell you that?” she insists.
“Recently, actually, now that I think about it. Just a few weeks before he died.”
“Maybe he knew something we didn’t.” She touches my cheek affectionately.
“Maybe he did.” I kiss her palm lovingly.
Maybe . . . this was all just meant to be.
The End
