His eyes go wide, laughter threatening to break through the shock. It looks like he can’t decide whether to breathe or laugh. He does both. A breath stumbles out through a smile bright enough to blind the whole block.
“Say it again.” His eyes find mine and don’t let go. I cup his face, thumb brushing the tear I bet he doesn’t even register.
“I love you.”
“You’ve never said it before.”
“Fear slows me down, but I’m catching up.”
He kisses me, unhurried this time. Reverent, sealing themoment with all the promises I know he’ll keep until we’re dust.
Later, downstairs, he lights the fireplace. The first spark catches, and the air shifts, scented with a bit of smoke and everything new.
We sit on the rug, wrapped in one of the many blankets he laid here for tonight. My head on his shoulder. His fingers draw lazy circles across my back, and my breathing syncs to his.
The flames crackle. Our feet tangle in a slow, thoughtless massage of sorts.
He kisses my hair. “Tomorrow, we can take care of that list. I’m canceling Zaha and asking Callie to take Lily for the day. We’ll have a redo.”
“Forget about that list. Make love to me, Pres.”
His lips brush mine, a smile lacing his voice. “That’s what I’ve been doing, baby. The whole time.”
I smile against his skin. “Will it be a total mood killer if I say I’ll miss having Lily around for a day?”
“No, baby. You loving my kid is the biggest turn-on of my life. It’s my wildest dream coming true. It’s the making of our family.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
mia
Days stack easy.Mornings are for shoelace lessons on new sneakers and our secret goodbye wave at lineup—like we’re undercover agents instead of just slightly unhinged humans before 8 a.m. Preston cheats at Go Fish. Lily and I catch his tells and stage a coup at the kitchen island. I bought erasable pens, and now the fridge gets a new doodle every morning before school. My favorites are Lils’s notes. Her handwriting’s so adorable. So her.
The sight of two mugs sitting side by side doesn’t spook me anymore; they pin a ridiculous smile to my face. After breakfast, he loops my scarf around his neck so his cologne finds me when we part ways at the door. He’s teaching me to drive, so I don’t need an Uber for afternoon pick-ups.
We text the important and unimportant things—banana-bread fails, lunchbox triumphs—until unimportant turns into everything.
By lunch, Moe's Diner is at full capacity. The espresso machine hisses, forks chime off heavy plates. We're donewith our food, not with our company. Callie emptied the sugar caddy, her spoon clinking too fast and loud in her mug. April smirks at her, elbows tidy on the Formica, napkin refolded and squared in front of her.
My phone buzzes: Pres.
I answer with a grin I don’t bother to hide.
“Hey, baby. Where are you?” he asks, and warmth radiates from my ear to my chest.
“Moe’s. Callie’s on a sugar bender and her third cup of coffee.Allegedly. I think they’re spiked. Which is apparently how Callie got ordained online so she can marry us?” He laughs out loud as if that was funny. I angle away, palm cupped over the speaker. “How do I stop her?”
Callie leans in, stage voice on. “I did that because Mia cannot have two maids of honor. Pick a favorite, coward, or I’ll be the priest.”
“We’re not getting married, Callie.”
Pres chimes in from the other side of the line, “Oh yeah, we are. Don’t say hurtful things like that.”
Heat stings my cheeks. “Shut up, you know what I mean. God, your friends are pushy.”
Callie gasps, delighted. “We’re your friends now.” She points the spoon at me like a wand. No, more like a weapon.
April laughs the menace off. “Want my advice? Start therapy immediately.” She turns to Callie and slides a glass of water toward her. “Girl, what's our motto?”
