Page 44 of Last Slice of Pie

“What do you mean?” His brows pull down, confused.

“Aren’t you worried he’ll overreact like he always does?”

The features on his face smooth out and a small smile tips one side of his mouth up. “Lexi, I’ve waited my entire life to be with you. Nothing and no one is going to keep me from you now. I don’t care what he thinks. If he can’t be happy for us, that’s his problem.”

For the first time, he’s made me feel like I matter the most, and emotion forms a lump in my throat.

“Also, you should know . . . he already knows.” He grins, and I suck in air, surprised.

“What?”

“Yep. He might be across the world, but they do have Internet. He’s seen the photos of us together.”

“He told you this?” I ask, pulling back just a little. Bryan’s hand tightens on my hip.

“He emailed me. Don’t worry, though—he did his due diligence and gave me the big brother speech.”

Well, I’ll be.

Grilled Summer Fruit Cobbler

I CAN’T STOP smiling.

Even though I haven’t seen him in a week, this has been the best week of my life.

Bryan was everything I imagined he would be and then some. Last weekend we spent hours not speaking but not sleeping either, and I’ve replayed every detail I can remember over and over again. His hands, his mouth, his smell, his strength—all of it was so much and so him, and I am even more his number one fan than I was before. Since then we’ve talked more than I think we did the entire last year we were together. I just wish I had more time with him.

Time. My heart frowns as I pick up the mistletoe margarita I made and take a sip.

Bright and early Monday morning—or should I say the morning after the best night of my life—he was up fixing us each a cup of coffee and a protein shake. I’m not sure that he usually drinks coffee, but he knows I do, so he made it for us, and the shake—well, it was green, and I swallowed it down while smiling on the outside but cringing on the inside. He just shrugged his shoulders, grinning at me as he walked me through his normal morning routine. Then he kissed me deeply one last time before he left, so deeply it still makes me blush, curl my toes, and smile.

Before I left, I might have wandered back upstairs and stolen the pullover he had on last night after he changed out of his postgame suit, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? I also won’t mention how many times I might have buried my face in it to smell him. Clean, fresh, laundry detergent, dryer sheets, sporty body wash—it all just smells so good and so much like him.

Boy, do I miss him.

Not much longer, I tell myself. The holidays will be over, the season is winding down, and soon I’ll get to spend some real time with him.

“You do realize your giddiness right now is kind of disgusting, right?” Marie says from behind the lens of the camera.

“Ask me if I care.” I grin at her, setting my drink down and moving to cut more flower shapes out of a piece of dough I’ve been working on the counter.

Bryan is out of town, they’re playing the Jets tonight, and we are one week out from Christmas. With schedules getting crazy, Marie and I spent this past week planning for quarter one of next year. Together, we brainstormed and put together a short and long-term business plan that we feel is attainable. After all, failing to plan is planning to fail, and we included our newest venture, putting our custom Firefly Kitchen logo on a ceramic pie dish, kitchen towels, and silicone spatulas. We thought long and hard, researched different kitchen supply companies, and with what we found, I’m super excited to implement the idea of kitchen items on the website and in a few of the more high-volume shops we sell in across the south. Hopefully Camille was right and they will be well received. The fireflies do look so good.

We’ve also spent the last three days taking social media and website photos that last us through most of January and into February. What is winter to most is spring to us, and it’s go time here in Florida with produce. Strawberry season is up next, and we’ll be knee-deep in strawberry rhubarb pie filling until the end of March.

“I’m happy for you, I really am . . .” She trails off, the shutter click echoing around the room. My kitchen has exploded with pale pink, white, and yellow flowers, and we’ve arranged kitchen towels, fresh fruits, different props, and a few baked pies.

“Why do I feel like you’re saying that but not really meaning it?” I glance at her as I decide to move on to cutting leaves. Decorative pie crusts have taken off, and I can’t help but buy all the pie crust shape cutters to try them out. The accents, the designs and themes—so much can be done with a pie these days, and of course we offer custom-made pies upon request.

Marie stands up and moves to adjust a few of the pie plates in her current shot. Over the years, we’ve acquired a rather large collection of them, all in different colors, and she’s stacked them next to a jar of the Meyer lemon shaker pie filling, which sits in front of a vase of yellow tulips. The shot is bright and looks stunning.

“I do mean it. I just worry about you, that’s all.” She briefly glances at me but doesn’t make eye contact. She’s been unusually quiet the last few days, and knowing her like I do, I’m certain she’s been gearing up to discuss something with me.

“Why? What’s there to worry about?” Putting down the shape cutter, I sit up straighter and openly stare at her.

I run through my mind how often Bryan and I talk to each other, and even though this is a long-distance thing, I don’t feel I need to worry in the slightest about him messing around with someone else. I’m not even sure how he would fit that into his day. He’s pretty regimented and consistent with his schedule, and when I knew him before, he was a very standup guy. I don’t think that’s changed. Besides, how cliché would that be?

“Well, how does this work? You live here and he lives there. I don’t see that changing any time soon.”