He snorted right into my ear, pulled out, and rolled me with him to the side of the bed, where he picked me up and carried me to the shower.
“I have enough condoms to do this exactly two more times,” he said as he turned the shower on with a flick of his wrist.
He hadn’t even turned the light on yet.
“Only three?” I teased.
“It’s been a while,” he admitted. “I’ve been busy with work and other stuff. Plus, I’m not usually the ‘fuck ’em before you know ’em’ kind of guy. I’m more of a ‘get to know them, make sure they like my cooking, before I give them any other parts of me’ kind of guy.”
That was sweet.
“Will you cook me something before I have to go?”
He stepped into the shower with me, placed me gently on my feet, and then cupped my face.
“I would perish in the pits of hell if I sent you away from me hungry.”
And he didn’t.
After four and a half hours of “mind-blowing, never going to get over this man for the rest of my life” kind of sex, he cooked me food.
It was simple.
Eggs—over easy like I liked them—bacon, which was the thickest cut bacon I’d ever seen in my life, and hash browns from scratch. Then, he’d cut into a loaf of bread that’d been on the counter, slathered some homemade butter and jelly onto it, and placed it all in front of me.
I eyed the food and felt my mouth water.
“Will I offend your cooking gods if I ask for salt and ketchup?” I asked.
He winced. “Probably the ketchup, yes. But I’ll manage.”
I loved every single bite.
And I’d dream about the bread and the jelly, like I would his body, for years and years to come.
Maybe I could come back during our off-season…
I helped him clean up, even though he told me not to.
Then, when it was time to leave, he walked me to the door.
The chill in the air was jolting as he opened the door, and I felt a frog enter my throat.
“If you ever decide that you want to join a circus and cook for us…” I said, “I happen to know a place that’s hiring.”
I didn’t give him my number. In fact, I didn’t do much more than blow him a kiss then walk away.
Goodbyes were hard. Goodbyes, when feelings were involved, even harder.
I missed him already, and I hadn’t even gotten into the van yet.
“I don’t have your number,” he called as I opened the van door.
I smiled at him sadly over my shoulder. “Would you use it?”
His answering frown made me smile softly and get into the car.
No, he wouldn’t use it.
And I wouldn’t want him to use it unless he planned to stay in my life.
Rolling down the van windows—yes, they were hand crank. The beast was old—I started it up.
I didn’t look at him while I backed out of the driveway.
I didn’t look at him when I pulled past his driveway.
I waited until he was in my rearview to look back.
His eyes were agonized as he watched me drive away.
And the strange pulling sensation in my heart got stronger and stronger with each foot of distance I put between us.
CHAPTER 7
Marry a woman that shares common interests with you and doesn’t mind a finger in her butt every once in a while.
-Sienna to Coffey
COFFEY
“Sorry, kids. You’re not getting an inheritance. All that money went to booze. I needed it to put up with you,” the lawyer read.
I blinked.
“He didn’t really say that,” I said as the lawyer read the first line of the will my father had left. “Did he?”
My dad’s lawyer, an old friend of his, laughed. “He did. But that was just a joke. He’s actually leaving y’all a sizable amount. Plus”—he switched the papers in his hand—“the house is to be sold and profits split. His life insurance policy lists the two of you as beneficiaries. Each of you will get two million apiece. A million is to be split into a fund for any future grandchildren, split equally.”
Even the idea of two million dollars didn’t dampen the pain I felt at the knowledge that the only reason I had that money in the first place was because he was no longer here.
“What else is there?” the lawyer paused. “Ah, yes. The final parting comments from your dad. I know he wrote each of you a letter to be given to you after his death. This is for you,” he handed me the letter. “And this is for you.”
Sienna took it like whatever it held inside was about to wound her.
Minutes later, we were leaning against her car with the letters in our hands.
“One, two, three,” she said.
We both ripped open the papers.
The first line I read in my dad’s handwriting was, “I love you.”
My heart constricted.
I love you. You don’t need a letter. You need a change of life.
I don’t want you to stay here and pine over me. I want you to find a place, make it yours, and live your life the way you want to live it.
The life insurance I left behind should give you more than enough to open a restaurant. It should also start you off well somewhere that’s not here. I advised your sister to leave in her letter, just like I’m advising you.
I want you to find a place that’ll make you want to stay there forever. Somewhere where you can envision raising your kids and their kids raising your grandkids. Then, when Sienna is ready, I want her to come to you. Make a new home. Don’t think about the place you’re leaving behind or the memories.
Find you a woman. Make lots of babies. Be happy. Don’t endanger your fingers.
Love you lots, boy. You were always my favorite.
Sienna laughed, drawing my attention to her.
“Did he say you were his favorite?” she asked.
I handed her the letter and she handed me hers.
But instead of reading hers, I started to get lost in ideas.
Where would I want to go to open a restaurant?
I couldn’t think about a place, but I could think about a person.
The thought occurred to me and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The longer I gave it thought, the more that thought felt like it was the perfect plan.
I could apply for the job at the circus.
I had no other life plans.
Dad left me an inheritance. I had no reason to work right now. There was no rush to open the restaurant or make any hasty decisions.
I handed her back her letter when she handed me mine.
She folded hers as I did the same, tucking it into the inside pocket of my leather jacket.
“Why do you look like you have a plan already?” she asked.
I shrugged. Because I did.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m going somewhere to eat. I’m craving Subway.”
Her brows rose, but she walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
When she settled inside and rolled her window down, she leaned out of it and looked at me.
“Are you really going to Subway?” Sienna asked.
I smiled. “I heard that Carron is working at Subway now. I’m going to run by there and have her make me a sandwich for old times’ sake.”