Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He tugs me up, sits in my seat, and pulls me back down to his lap. I nuzzle into his neck, lost in the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his hard body, the affection in the hand stroking my thigh, sending tingles even through a thin layer of silk.
“Okay,” Hendrix says, standing. “I think that’s our cue to leave, Sol. They might start screwing on the table right here in front of us.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” I link my fingers with Josiah’s across my stomach and press my back to his chest. “Wouldn’t put it past us.”
The low rumble of Josiah’s chuckle vibrates along my spine; I was joking, but my belly somersaults at the unyielding bone and muscle beneath me. The way this man makes me feel, we may not make it home. Wouldn’t be the first time we made good use of the cellar.
“Guess I’ll live vicariously through you,” Soledad says, a touch of bitterness in her smile. I know it’s not directed toward us, but to her husband. Grasping her hand for a squeeze, I offer a sympathetic smile.
“Y’all still coming to my place tomorrow?” Hendrix asks, tucking the half-empty bottle of champagne under one arm. “I’m doing a New Year’s lunch with greens and black-eyed peas. Get our luck right for the New Year.”
“As long as lunch is not before noon,” Josiah says, “count us in.”
“Then I’ll see you at noon. Come on, Sol.”
“Night, lovebirds,” Sol says, her smile warm this time.
“Love you guys.” I give a little finger flurry wave and watch the two best friends I’ve ever had take the stairs down.
I’m so blessed they’re in my life. The absolute truth of that has me blinking back unexpected tears…again. I’m emotional tonight. I’d wonder if I might be pregnant if it weren’t for Josiah snipping that possibility away with a vasectomy a few months ago. It gave him peace of mind knowing we wouldn’t accidentally end up with a high-risk pregnancy, and it solidified a new direction for our family.
“Did you see Brock and Clint tonight?” I ask, shifting a little on his lap to look into his eyes.
“I did. I told them we’re starting the adoption classes next week. They’re hyped for it.”
We’re adding to our family, and it feels like just one more step in the right direction for us. Kassim and Deja are happy and secure. We communicate with them openly about our relationship and our commitment to them and to each other. We leased Byrd’s house out a few months ago, to a sweet family, and that felt like cutting one last thread to the painful time we spent apart. We’re stronger than we’ve ever been before. Tender wrapped in tungsten. The most vulnerable parts of me sheltered by rock devotion.
I turn my head to look at him, bringing our lips close enough to kiss…so we do. How a man you’ve kissed a million times still has the power to make you weak in the knees, I don’t know, but clinging to him under a cathedral sky with an audience of stars, I know I’ll never take it for granted. We’ve been through too much, and what burns between us shines brighter and hotter for having been tried.
He slows the kiss, tightening his hand at my hip, pulling me flush to his chest so our hearts pound in tandem. Music drifts up from downstairs, and when I place the song, crooned by Al Green, it seizes me by the soul.
“Let’s Stay Together.”
“I thought the DJ was gone,” I say against his lips, “but they’re playing our song. Did you arrange that, by chance?”
“The owner put in a good word for me,” he says, smiling and standing, extending his hand. “Dance?”
I nod, stepping close to him, slipping my arms up over his shoulders and laying my head on his chest. His hands wander past my waist and hips to squeeze my butt.
“When we get home,” he says, “this ass is mine.”
“This ass,” I tell him, pulling the necklace with the wheel charm and my old wedding ring free of my dress, “is always yours, Mr. Wade.”
Looking down at me, his eyes glow with love. “That’s good to know, Mrs. Wade.”
We don’t speak for a few moments, but sway, letting the song douse us in memory. Two naive kids in a shitty apartment on a cold night, clinging to each other, thinking we knew what true love looked like. We had no idea how hard it could be to live out these lyrics, to stay together. Hearing this song used to remind me of my biggest failure, but now it is the anthem of my greatest triumph. Not that I lost this love, but that I believed in it so much, I ran back into the fire to save it. That when all hope was lost, I didn’t stop looking until I found it again. Didn’t stop looking until I found myself again. And this man, this moment—is my reward.