Page 176 of Rhodes

Afterward he stays exactly where he is, breathing hot on my neck with his face in the crook of it. Nothing about us is settled. I’m not moving back in, and I’m not telling him this is forever. Every hard thing between us is still sitting out there waiting on us to deal with it in daylight.

And I am not sorry about one single second of this.

He pulls out carefully. I make a noise I did not authorize. He deals with the condom at the trash can by the back door, and then he comes back and puts both hands on my waist and lifts me down off the counter. My legs don’t entirely agree to the plan, but he steadies me.

My leggings are on the floor by the dishwasher. He crouches down in front of me with them bunched up in his hands so I can step in one foot at a time. He works them up my legs slowly, and doesn’t make a single joke the entire time.

He pulls his own jeans up and leaves them unbuttoned.

"So when’s our first date?"

I smile.

“Let’s survive dinner first.”

“How about dinner tonight?”

“I can do tonight. It's Friday, after all.”

His grin comes easily. “About damn time.”

Epilogue

Maintenance: A restored building is never finished. It is walked, inspected, patched, and painted year after year by people who intend to still be standing there the next time it needs them. In New Orleans, that turns out to be what preservation actually means.

One Year Later

Cooper drops the folding table on my foot.

“Motherfucker.”

He winces. “My bad.”

“You let go on purpose.”

“I slipped.”

I know he didn’t, but this argument is stupid. I know him better than anyone, and Coop always does dumb shit most people wouldn’t notice to poke at people.

“You absolutely let go.”

“Prove it.”

I wave my hand at him. “You’ve been waiting a year for a socially acceptable reason to injure me.”

“I wouldn’t call this socially acceptable.”

“That’s because you’re bad at revenge.”

I grab my end, and we haul the table the last few feet toward the patch of St. Charles Avenue Cain has apparently been defending since noon, like somebody is going to annex it if he looks away.

Reeves got here before any of us. He still acts like he’s the recon hero. Probably has something to do with him running security for Stone Intermodal.

He’s already lashed a box seat to the top of a ladder for Benjy, who is standing up in it with both hands on the rails. Charli has their baby girl tied onto her in one of those bookbags for babies, and she’s out cold. The four of them are in their own world.

New Orleans is already loud even though the parade is still an hour out. Kids run between ladders strung with beads. Somebody three setups down has a speaker playing brass music loud enough to compete with the streetcar bells, and the neutral ground is packed with coolers, folding chairs, wagons, blankets and enough food to survive a natural disaster.

Cain looks up from where he is unfolding chairs. “You two finished?”