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“What did you mean when you said emotions are more manageable when the sun is out?”
The memory of when I first heard those words has me smiling.
I was maybe nine, and I walked in on my parents arguing. They weren’t yelling. My parents never yelled at each other. But their words were tense, and frowns marred both of their faces. Upon my arrival, my mom announced she needed some time. She pressed a kiss on the top of my head, then left the room.
I was terrified. I ran up to my father, grabbing his shirt on the verge of tears, begging to know if Mom was leaving us. The angry expression on his face disappeared instantly at that question, and he leaned down to scoop me into his arms, hugging me tight to his broad chest. I was approaching the age where I scorned getting snuggled like a baby, but that night I gripped him back just as tight.
And he told me no. That Mom was just going to bed. That sleep gives people time to sift through their emotions. That kind words come easier at the start of the day than at the end of it, and they would finish their talk in the morning when it would be easier to be kind to each other.
Then he sat me at the table and scooped us some generous portions of ice cream. The next morning, I came downstairs to find them kissing in the kitchen.
And I never forgot that lesson.
“Just something my dad likes to say. That it’s okay to go to bed angry. People shouldn’t argue when they’re tired or hungry because that just makes everything worse. And that sunshine puts people in a better mood. If you still want to yell at me tomorrow after breakfast…” I trail off, because I’d rather not give out permission to be screamed at.
“I don’t want to yell at you,” Luna says. “That’s what my parents do.”
“I don’t want to yell at you either.”
Luna snorts. “Can you yell, Charlie Keller?”
In the darkness, I grin up at the ceiling, hope alighting in my chest at her teasing tone.
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I can scream like a banshee. Just put me in front of a good band and I’ll yell my head off.”
There’s a scoff from her side of the bed. “That’s fan girl screaming.”
“Excuse me, that’s fanpersonscreaming, and I am accomplished at it.”
She emits a soft chuckle that warms my whole being. “People would hate us if we went to a concert together.”
“Why’s that?”
The bed jiggles as Luna shifts around, then there’s a doggy groan and Pig stretches her legs further into my space, not caring in the least that her paws are digging into my side.
Bed hog.
“Because I would take full advantage of you there.”
I almost swallow my tongue, but Luna keeps talking.
“When you’re only a few inches above five foot, trying to see the stage is a bitch. I’d insist you boost me onto your shoulders so I could get a better seat. Which would turn us into a giant two-person monster with you doing whatever obnoxious screaming you do. The ultimate concert menace.”
A weird laugh groan spills out of me at her description. I can imagine what a ridiculous sight we’d make. But fuck, I can also fantasize about exactly what it’d be like to have Luna’s strong thighs cradling my head.
Like earlier tonight.
We spend the next hour exchanging concert stories, our tales punctuated with yawns until eventually we both pass out.
And neither of us ends up going to bed mad.
But the next morning, my bed is empty of both dog and wife.
ChapterThirty-Five
LUNA
“Can I just say, your husband is adorable.” Violet grins at me over her zip-tied hands.
