???
When the call ends, we cuddle for a moment.
“I'm not used to that,” Marco admits quietly.
“Used to what?”
“Family gatherings. Family video chats. Feels nice.”
He tucks his fingers inside my sleeve.
I pause to let this sink in.
“You're so loved, you know that?”
He nods gently.
“I mean it, bub. My family adores you. So do Beth and Porter. So does your mum, despite her struggles.” My voice fades to a hush. “And I fall deeper in love with you every damn day.”
This time, the kiss is slow and all consuming.
For the next half an hour, we almost forget that we have somewhere else to be.
“One quick question though?” I ask as we straighten our clothes.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Where are we gonna find a dragon egg by Sunday?”
“I have connections,” Marco smiles knowingly. “Let me pull a few strings.”
???
A row of homes glow in the night as we slow to a crawl along Quail Street.
“It's this one, I think. She said we can park on the grass.”
The engine ticks as it cools.
I secretly imagined that Beth’s home would give the vibe of someone who made their own soup from scratch.
And it does.
A cosy cottage beneath a eucalyptus tree.
Weathered and rustic, with plenty of soul.
Porch light on.
Stained glass window in the front.
My mum would love those mosaic planter pots.
Beth stands in the doorway, waving to welcome us.
Thick silver curls down to her waist.
A burgundy kaftan.
