“And I’m all good now,” I said.
He smiled at me, still stroking my skin.
It was a small smile, his eyes were again wounded, he was showing me that, and I had a newfound appreciation for the honesty we were learning to share.
But I sensed we were done talking about his family.
At least for now.
“Can you hang there a sec?” I asked.
“Sure,” he answered, some of the ache in his eyes shifting to curiosity.
I pulled free from his gentle hold, and I (and Jacques) went to my closet.
I dug deep into where I’d hidden it. And at the time, I’d hidden it from myself.
Once I had it, I walked back to my side of the bar.
I felt the air close in around me, but it wasn’t hellfire this time.
It was warm and cozy and safe and wonderful.
I set the Christmas wrapped box on the bar between us.
“Open it.”
His eyes lifted from the box to me, and he whispered, “Baby.”
“Open it, Knox.”
He drew in breath.
Then he opened it.
It was a fancy, ridiculously expensive stainless steel, ergonomically weighted BBQ tool set in a roll bag with leather straps.
“For when you’re barbequing for our grandkids, and before,” I said.
He looked from the gift to me. “You totally never let me go.”
“I totally didn’t and I totally never will.”
We stood there, staring at each other over the bar and the BBQ tools.
We did this so long, we freaked Jacques, and he gave a gentle, questioning woof.
“C’mere, boy,” Knox called.
Jacques trotted to him.
Knox bent and picked him up.
“Easy for me to carry when I gotta grill down in the courtyard,” he said.
“That was what I was thinking.”
A languid, heavy beat passed then he said softly, “Never let me go.”
