Sweet Sinful Nights

He set the bouquet on the ground, then cupped her cheeks in his palms. He gazed at her, his brown eyes full of passion, full of love. “I told you I won’t make the same mistake again. I won’t lose you twice.” He brushed his thumb along her jawline. “Last night floored me. You have to know that. It shocked me to the bone, and I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t know how to feel about everything, but one thing I know is true is that I am in love with you. That’s never going to change, so whatever happens, I want to figure it out with you.”

His words tugged at all her heartstrings. His hands on her face were the reassurance she’d always sought. They were comfort and protection all at once. “I want that too. I want you here with me. Life is better with you, even if we’re dealing with something hard. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I’ve been through enough to know that whatever comes our way we’ll get through it. And hey,” she said, her lips quirking into a small smile, “that’s my specialty. Maybe that’s what I can help you with. Getting through things.”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll take it. I need it. I barely knew what to say last night. I left so I wouldn’t say something else that was wrong. Last time I said everything wrong.”

“So let’s say the right things now. It’s my turn. When we started seeing each other again, you said you weren’t going to let me go. You were damn insistent. You made it clear I was yours, come hell or high water.”

He grinned proudly, and nodded. “I did.”

“I feel the same about you. I belong with you, and you belong with me. You and I are fire. We always have been. And sometimes we burn with how much we love. Sometimes we hurt each other. But I will do whatever it takes for you. Just as you will for me. I lost you once, and there’s no way I’m going to let that happen again. Got it?” She poked him in the chest. “You are mine.”

He smiled wide and broad like the sun. “And you’re mine.”

She cast her eyes to the bouquet. “I see you brought me something.”

He bent down and picked up the flowers. “I had this plan to get a skywriter and say King Shmuck says he’s sorry and please take him back, and then have a Mariachi band play ‘You’re the One That I Want’ after you came through security. It was that, or the flowers.” He made a nervous face, one that was clearly deliberate. “Did I pick okay?” he asked.

She laughed and grabbed his arm again, not wanting to let go of him. “I think you did okay, Nichols. You did more than okay. You noticed I like sunflowers, and yellow, and sunshine.”

He held his hands out wide. “Help a man out. I have no idea what your sunflower obsession is, but I know they matter to you, and you matter to me, so I want to know.”

Her laughter erased itself and so did the smile on her face. She turned serious. “You want to know? Even if hurts? Even if you won’t know what to say?”

“Yes. I do.”

She tipped her forehead to her car. “Take me for a ride. I’ll show you.” She handed him the keys, and let him drive.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


The grass was spongy under his feet, and the early evening sun cast golden shadows across the headstones.

The oaks and elms rose stately and green, their lush leaves forming canopies. Flowers burst to life everywhere, some wild, many in bouquets laid on the ground. It was an odd juxtaposition—all that verdant life in the midst of those markers of death. But that was what cemeteries were for—for the living to remember the dead. With her hand in his, they neared her father’s grave.

As the simple stone came into view, he saw yellow. So much yellow.

“My grandma was here this week. She brought those,” Shannon said gesturing to the sunflowers along the headstone.

He read the etching. Thomas Darren Paige. Loving father. His throat hitched, and he swallowed it away as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“I bring them here, too,” she continued.

“They’re beautiful,” Brent said softly, as they stopped a few feet from the grave. “It’s a beautiful way to remember him.”

“They’re not only for him,” Shannon said, looking up, meeting his eyes.

“Who are they for?” he asked, but he knew the answer. In a flash, everything made sense. He inhaled sharply, walloped once again by something unexpected.

“I like to think he’s with my dad. Somehow. That my dad is looking out for him. That they keep each other company in the great beyond.”

He swallowed roughly, and spoke softly. “I believe that.”