Mine whispers louder as her eyes slide shut and she tips her head back, all of that glorious curly red hair falling into the bubbles while the spasms of her orgasm squeeze me tighter.
Mine comes as a shout as she gasps my name and grips my ears, pushing me over the edge into my own orgasm, buried deep inside her in this safe cocoon where nothing else exists and nothing else matters.
Mine.
Just mine.
That flush on her cheeks. Her eyes unfocused but somehow still holding mine. The way she rubs her breast like she’s feeling her release in her chest and it’s too much.
Like she feels it too.
We could be so much more than what we are.
If one of us is brave.
If one of us will say it.
If one of us will leap.
Her shoulders drop and she slumps back against my chest. “How?” she murmurs.
“My other title is Super Orgasm Man,” I murmur in her hair, my cock still spasming deep inside her.
She laughs.
I suck in a breath. Super Sensitive Cock Man might be more appropriate in this exact moment.
“Do you really have a comic book collection?” Sabrina asks.
I tense.
It’s reflexive.
“I used to read Jack’s anytime I had to stay with the triplets while my mom had a night out,” she murmurs. “And I always hated that I felt like I wasn’t getting all of the good parts of the story. Like I’d missed so much for there being several issues that came and were lost under his bed since the last time I was there.”
“The nuance,” I murmur. “Of course you’d love the nuance.”
“And the details.”
“The gossip.”
“Damn right.”
“I divorced Felicia when I found out she was running a podcast about living with difficult men.” Fuck me. Where did that come from? “S-since we were—it’s gossip. I mean, some people think—never mind. I didn’t say any of that.”
“Behind your back?” Sabrina asks.
When I hesitate, she wraps her arms tighter around me.
“Yes,” I finally confirm.
“How’d you find out?”
“Vince—my old business partner—he knew. He listened to it. I walked into the lab one day, heard him laughing his ass off, went to see what was so funny, and I heard her. At first, I thought she was on the phone. When I realized what it was—between that and all of her shit about Zen—I was done. My family said I couldn’t take a joke, but—”
“But your spouse is the one person who should respect you the most,” she finishes.
“Yes.”
“Grey?”
“Yeah?”
“I mean it. You’re safe here. Not just here, in my bathtub here, but all of the Tooth. You’re safe here.”
I close my eyes and drop my nose into her hair again and hold her tight.
I believe her.
I might be a fool, but I believe her.
And when I hear a soft snore coming from her face on my chest, and the water cools beyond comfortable, I get us both out of the tub, dry her off, and carry her to her bed, where I hold her for the rest of the night.
32
Grey
Leaving Sabrina while she’s still sleeping mid-morning feels like opening an old wound.
Like the next time I look at her townhouse, it will have disappeared. Like I’ll never see her again at the café or anywhere else in Snaggletooth Creek. Like I’m leaving myself exposed for her to disappear again.
But I have a breakfast date with Mimi, and I want to know how her evening was.
Up to a point.
I don’t need details if hers ended like mine did.
I do, however, need her advice.
“That’s the same face you had when you were puzzling out how to combine plastic and beeswax, except I think you’re dwelling on something much heavier right now,” Mimi says when I join her and Zen in the sunroom of the bed and breakfast Sabrina arranged for her. While there are six four-person tables in here, we’re currently the only occupants.
A wall of windows overlooks a snowy yard and pine-covered mountain peaks in the distance, and a colorful painting of a bear holding a coffee and tea service over the buffet on the opposite wall. Winter weekdays must not be popular for the bed and breakfast crowd. Or else we’re eating late. “And you’ve been wearing it off and on since I got here yesterday,” she adds.
“You ever contemplate justice, Mimi?” I ask while I put my napkin in my lap. My tea is steeping and for the first time in months, I feel a sense of peace.
Optimism, anyway.
Though it’s short-lived thanks to Zen, who makes a noise over their coffee cup that could mean anything from finally, we’re getting somewhere to Uncle Grey is a moron.
“A time or two,” Mimi answers me. “I was married to your grandfather for too many decades.”
“Why’d you marry him?” Zen asks.
“I was sent to college to find a husband. When my first choice fell through, I went with the backup plan. And it was a poor backup plan.”
“Why’d you stay?”
“Murder is illegal, and he could afford better divorce attorneys.”
They’re both laughing when the hostess comes in carrying three plates of a gorgeous eggs benedict with a side of yogurt parfait and orange slices.
Zen has no memories of my grandfather, which is something I’ll forever be grateful for.
He was a scary old bastard. Passed it down to my father, despite Mimi’s best efforts, and that explains everything anyone ever needs to know about my family.
Mimi waits until our hostess has departed, fork poised over her food while she watches me finish fixing my tea. “What justice are you contemplating?”
That’s a much more complicated answer now that I know why Mimi’s here.
She confirmed Sabrina’s story yesterday afternoon, ending with I used to sometimes think about how I could’ve been living in the mountains running a little bakery with the man of my dreams, but what good are wishes that can’t come true?
“Grey?” Mimi prompts.
I shake my head. “There’s someone here who…hurt me. And I thought—”
I cut myself off with a sigh.
Liking it here was never part of the plan.
But I do.
I like it entirely more than I feel like I deserve.
“You thought destroying something of his the same way he destroyed something of yours would be justice?” Zen prompts. “But then you found out you’d be hurting a lot of other innocent people along the way?”
I meet their gaze. My college years aren’t something we’ve ever discussed. All I said about buying Chandler’s café was I’m looking forward to seeing how it feels when the shoe’s on the other foot.
But I get the feeling they know more of the story, if not most of the story.
“Knowledge is power,” they say quietly. “Sometimes it’s all the power you have.”
“Am I understanding this right?” Mimi says. “You bought a café and saved a man from financial ruin to…get revenge?”
“I paid him less than what it’s worth,” I mutter.
“Face it, Uncle Grey.” Zen pops a bite of eggs benedict into their mouth. “You’re not built for being a bloodthirsty man of vengeance.”
I’m not.
Especially when following through with my plan will hurt Sabrina.
She says she’ll adapt, that she wanted me last night more than she wanted her café, but it doesn’t feel right.
Not because I think she lied.
I think she was being completely honest.
It’s more that Bean & Nugget isn’t broken.
It’s beautiful.
It’s beautiful because she runs it.
She belongs to Snaggletooth Creek, and Snaggletooth Creek belongs to her.
Same for Bean & Nugget.
“It’s never too late to turn something ugly into something beautiful,” Mimi says.
I cut a glance at her too, knowing she’s right, and starting to finally understand what I need to do to find the peace I came here for. “You’ve been cagey about what you and Harry Sullivan talked about last night.”
“Bah. I’m not cagey. I just can’t remember.”
“She doesn’t want to tell you that they’re getting married,” Zen pipes up.
“Zenbow.”
“Full-name me all you want. I know that’s where this thing is going.”
“I am too old to get married.”
“So take him for a test drive and see if you want to invite him out to your retirement compound.”