“Then we’ll have time,” Milagros stated, holding out a hand. “Good to meet you.”
“Same,” Deacon replied, taking her hand and clasping it before letting it go.
“We’ll see each other again,” Manuel said, offering his own hand.
Deacon took it and replied, “Look forward to it.”
I gave Manuel a kiss on the cheek, same to Milagros with a hug, and we walked them to the door.
We stood in its frame as Milagros and Manuel corralled their kids, who were cavorting on the front porch, and got them in their SUV.
We continued to stand there, me waving, as they drove toward the cabins in order to turn around.
We did not wait for them to drive back down the lane. Deacon moved me in, shut the door, locked it, and looked down at me.
“You got lemon meringue pie?” he asked.
I grinned. “Yep.”
“You can have the sundae. I’ll have pie.”
He’d have pie.
He’d have pie.
I didn’t know how to express how happy that made me, and I didn’t want to because if I did, he’d probably think I was crazy.
Instead, taking a page out of his book, I shared what I needed to say by leaning so far in to him, I was giving him most of my weight, doing it tipping my head back and smiling at him.
He took my weight and supported it by rounding me with his arms.
He also dipped his face closer to mine, doing this while taking in my smile, before saying, “Plans changed. Fuck then you feed me.”
That caused a tingle.
“I’m down with that,” I whispered.
Deacon grinned.
Then he dipped his head further and kissed me.
After that, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to bed.
* * * * *
Much later, draped part on, partly down Deacon’s side, my cheek to his chest, as I heard his breath start to even out telling me he was close to sleep, I whispered into the dark, “Did you like the pie?”
I got no words, but the arm he had curved around me squeezed me tight.
He liked the pie.
I smiled against his chest, tightened my arm draped over his stomach, and kept whispering.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
His body tensed for a moment before it relaxed and he murmured, “Sleep, baby.”
I sighed.