At about seven, Shirleen arrived with a guitar case in each hand and announced that Roam and Sniff were now official y getting guitar lessons from Stel a.
Until around eight, Stel a and the boys were upstairs in Indy’s TV room and we heard them plunking away at the guitars.
At eight thirty, Vance showed up to escort us al home.
We had, however, managed to get al the wedding work done and have a Wedding Briefing (going over every last detail) before Vance showed up.
Throughout the evening, I’d checked in with Hank a couple of times and then, restless and, hoping writing a few letters would settle my mind (and my heart), I’d tried it.
It didn’t work.
Now it was after eleven o’clock and I was wired.
I heard the front door open and my body jerked at the noise. I grabbed my stationery, tossed it and my pen on the coffee table and headed toward the front of the house as I heard Hank give a whistle.
He had Shamus’s lead in his hand when I rounded the door to the kitchen and his gaze came to me.
Upon seeing me, his eyes warmed with a smile.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said like he normal y said every day if I was awake when he got home.
“Hey, Whisky,” I replied like I normal y replied every day if I was awake when he got home.
When I moved in with him, I thought I might have trouble fal ing into anything normal. I thought my ex, the crazy Bil y, would have ruined me for normal. A normal routine. A normal relationship. A normal life with a normal (but hot) guy in a normal neighborhood with a normal dog. I thought that kind of normal would be lost to me forever.
But normal with Hank wasn’t your average kind of normal.
It was the extraordinary kind.
And I took to it, no problems.
He came to me, curled an arm around my waist, leaned down and kissed my temple but when he was done with his kiss, he left his lips where they were.
“How was your day?” I asked softly, my face tilted up, my eyes open and looking at his dark hair curling into the back of his strong neck. I decided I should remind him he needed to make an appointment to get a haircut, especial y right before his brother’s wedding but I wasn’t going to. Hank had great hair, soft, thick and wavy and I liked it a shade too long (I liked it a lot).
“Over,” he replied and gave my waist a squeeze. “Takin’
Shamus out,” he murmured against my temple before giving me another kiss. “I’l meet you in bed.” I nodded, feeling my stomach melt, my head sliding against his jaw. He stepped away, hooked the leash on the quivering with pre-walk ecstasy Shamus and they were gone.
I washed and moisturized my face, put my hair up in a messy knot on top of my head, put on a stretchy, pale pink, lace nightie, got in bed and waited.
Incidental y, I was stil wired.
I heard the door open again and then Shamus’s nails on the wood floors in the front room then through to the kitchen.
There was silence for a few beats as Shamus hit the carpet in the television room before he rounded the door to the bedroom. He burst through, gal oping toward the bed. He jumped up and came at me, licking my face while he got an ear rub.
This, too (if I wasn’t in on the walk), was normal.
Hank fol owed much more slowly.
“Shamus,” Hank said low and Shamus backed off, started to roam the bed (even though he had to know the lay of the land by heart since he roamed it nightly) and then he laid down at the foot facing Hank and he panted.
“Hank…” I started then stopped.
For the first time in months with Hank, I didn’t know what to do.
You didn’t just blurt out you loved someone for no reason.