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“You don’t agree?” he asked.
Standing, I shrugged on my robe. “What exactly are we gonna tell her?”
“That Mommy and Daddy love each other, and we wanna be a family.”
“And what are you gonna say when she asks what that looks like?”
“She’s not gonna ask that ’cause she’s eight.”
“Yes, a very clever eight-year-old.”
“So, you think instead of just jumping for joy, she’s gonna ask for a game plan?” Oz reached for my hand, pulling me back to bed.
“I would.”
“That’s because you were a weird kid,” he said. I pinched him near his ribs. “Ow.”
“Take it back.”
“Dial, I’m tired of hiding. My love for you is too big to be contained. I wanna love you out loud so everyone can see. I don’t wanna go on date nights in another city.”
“Ellsmore has nicer restaurants.”
“I need to hold your hand, kiss you in the condiment aisle. I wanna walk around with a bouquet of flowers and have everyone know they’re for you. And most important, I want my daughter to witness her mother being loved deeply and gently.”
Well, he’d just shot to hell every single one of my excuses. “Okay.” My voice was breathless at the thought of an intentional life with him.
“Dial, I’m just saying…” He paused, processing my agreement. “Okay? I thought I was gonna have to convince you.”
Leaning closer, I caressed his face. “You already did.”
22
Ozzie
Downstairs, Dial stared at the coffee pot in her robe and slippers. She was an instant-gratification type of woman, and the coffeemaker’s lack of urgency was working her last nerve. Wrapping my arms around her, I whispered, “You smell good.”
“I smell like you.”
“And I love it. My subtle scent warns others to stay away.”
“So territorial,” she practically cooed.
“Listen, when you’ve got the best woman in all of Hume, you have to be ready to knuckle up to keep her.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Goddamn right, because I’m not gonna let you go.”
Dial spun to face me. “Do you realize you woke up, like, three times last night to tell me how much you loved me?”
“Really? That tracks, ’cause I don’t want you to ever forget how much I do.”
“How much are we talking?”
“A lot.” It was Sunday, my one day off, and all I could think about was spending it with Dial and Maple.
“Is Maple still asleep?” she asked, handing the first cup of coffee to me.
