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“Graduation, birthdays, Christmases, and any number of events that require you to wear a silly sweater or staple twisted crepe paper to the porch. This is the price of being part of a family,” I told him, toying with his shirt buttons. Cal grimaced. “Too late to back out now.”
“In terms of the sweater, how silly are we talking?”
“Cal.”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Cal!”
“Am I allowed to negotiate terms?”
I cupped his chin in my palm. “It will make Gigi happy.”
“Damn it, you know my weakness.”
“I love you.”
He groaned. “That’s my other weakness.”
“And by that, you mean …”
“I love you, too.”
“Wonderful. Now, let’s get you off the floor,” I said, slipping my hands into his. At my hip, my BlackBerry jangled to life with “Flight of the Bumblebee.” Cal’s eyes flicked toward the offending device, apparently resigned to the idea that he would be sharing me for eternity with a ridiculous novelty ringtone. Nuzzling my nose against his throat, I unclipped the phone from my belt and slid it onto the countertop. He grinned down at me, kissing me soundly. I wound my arms around his neck and sighed.
“Let it ring.”
