“Yeah, he was…” She cringes. “A good time, but a really bad choice.”
“Hey, that really bad choice left you with a priceless gift.”
She nods. “I occasionally wonder if he ever thinks about her, or if he just went off to college without ever looking back.” She brings her thumbnail to her mouth and nibbles on the end.
“His loss is my gain.” I don’t think she could possibly know how sincerely I mean that.
She smiles, reaching for my hand. “You really love her.”
“I do.” My answer comes with zero hesitation. “And I love you.”
She nods, giving my fingers a squeeze while she clears the emotion from her throat. “I love you too, Wyatt.”
I bend to press a kiss to the top of her head, then stroke my hand over her back.
“Can you believe this all started with a dumpster fuck?” She spits a laugh. “God, when I walked out to meet our new construction guy, and saw you standing there…” She shakes her head.
“I wasn’t even sure I was gonna take the job until I realized it was you, all high and mighty in your pencil skirt and lace blouse.” I chuckle. “Such a stark contrast from the party girl I hooked up with in that alley. I almost didn’t believe it.”
“Then I opened my mouth.”
“And I knew.”
“Knew what exactly?” Her sly grin stretches ear to ear while she looks at me expectantly.
“That I was gonna have to fuck the hoity-toity outta your uptight ass.”
She chokes. “You took the job because you wanted to have sex with me?”
“I took the job because I saw a damsel in distress.” I give her a little jab with my elbow. “You needed saving, and I was just the man for the job. Don’t be twistin’ my words.”
“And your plan was to save me with your penis.”
I nod. “That sounds about right.”
Her look is one of stunned disbelief. “You’re a real prince, Wyatt Landry.”
“You’re welcome.” I give her the best bow I can manage from my seated position.
“So, why’d you stay?” She hedges. “After.”
“Because,” I drawl. “You flipped the script and made me fall in love with you first.”
“I love that.”
“You know, they say you find love in the least likely of places.”
She grunts. “We just happened to find it behind a dumpster.”
“Nah. That was unfettered lust. Love came later. We found that in a funeral home.”
“We’re just a real fucking fairy tale.”
I don’t know if my uncontrollable laughter is from what she said or how she said it. “Can’t wait to tell our fuckin’ grandkids,” I finally say, when I can catch my breath.
“Excuse me.” A very irate woman walks up, tapping me on the shoulder. “There are children present.”
“I’m so sorry.” I glance around at the crowd that’s collected while we’ve been sitting here lost in our own little world.
After that we stick to safer topics. Sports. The weather.
Until the telltale sirens announce the start of the parade.
As the first float nears, Whitney turns to the woman we upset earlier and her children behind us, offering them our spot. I’m assuming it’s to make amends for our potty mouths. But it could also be that she’s just that freaking sweet. Whatever the reason, it makes me proud to be with such a thoughtful woman. Especially when I see the kids raking in beads and candy galore.
“Thanks,” says their mother, whose face now has a megawatt smile in the place of her early grimace.
“It’s no problem,” Whitney assures her.
“Mount up, cowgirl,” I tease crouching so she can climb up onto my shoulders.
“What am I going to even do with you?” she asks, blushing while she moves to make her ascent. “I can’t do it.” She circles around me, sizing me up. “I’m gonna hurt you…or break my neck.”
“Sure, ya can. Put your hands on my head and then just froggy hop up.”
“Riiiiiight.”
It takes a few tries, and our uncontrollable laughter after every miss certainly doesn’t help matters. But before the next float arrives, her thighs are wrapped around my neck, her hands fisted in my hair.
And me? Well, I’m considering looking for the nearest dumpster, of course.
“Hey there, handsome.” I pound a fist on the open door of the old barn turned shop in order to be heard over the buzzing of his power tools.
At the sound of my voice, Wyatt kills the saw, lifting his dust covered goggles to rest on top of his head, and whirls around.
It’s a rather warm day for January, even in Louisiana, with it being in the mid-seventies. I’m extra thankful for that fact when I catch sight of him shirtless and dripping in sweat. I’m literally salivating. He’s in a pair of work jeans. They’re worn and sitting low on his hips. And his abs. Dear Lord Almighty.
The man makes filthy look like a snack.
“To what do I owe this surprise?” With wide eyes, he looks to me and Prissy, back and forth a few times, his smile growing with every twist of his head.
“We wanted to come see what you’re doing over here,” Prissy announces, charging into his waiting arms. “We missed you, Wyatt.”
It’s been two whole days since we saw him last, and my little girl and I have been going out of our minds with Wyatt withdrawals. It’s a thing, okay?
The funeral home and, well, life in general are—in the words of my child—boring without him. I must say, I concur.
“I hope this is okay…” I twist the toe of my Converse into the ground, breaking up dirt.
“You kidding?” He crosses the shop to kiss my cheek, leaving me longing for so much more. He’s really good about toning things down for my daughter, maybe even better than I am. Despite it being a very chaste peck, she’s still ooooh-ing and giggling up a storm. “I can’t even think of a better surprise than my favorite girls showing up unannounced.”
“Well, I know you’re busy with building these cabinets.” I swipe some sawdust off his brow and take a glance around the cluttered space. He’s got cabinets in every stage of development from raw wood stacked in one corner to frames awaiting doors, some put together just needing to be finished, and even some completed pieces drying in the sun after being stained. “I promise we won’t be in the way.” I tilt my head and bat my lashes. “I even brought the stuff to whip up spaghetti. I mean, you’ve still gotta eat, right?”
“I know what this is really about,” Wyatt taunts, bringing his lips close to my ear. “You’re in mourning.”
I narrow my eyes. “For whom?”
“Not who…what.”
“Okay,” I amend, “for what?”
“My wood,” he rasps before flicking his tongue discreetly over my lobe.
I snort, slapping him on the chest. “No! That’s definitely not what this is about.”
“So, you’re not?” He pushes his lip out into the most pitiful of pouts.
“Well, I mean…” I feel the flush taking over my cheeks. “I could definitely go for some of that too…but that’s not why we’re here.”