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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Come on, everybody!”
Standing in the open slider, Kelsey clapped her hands, and six dogs bounded at her from the yard. She stepped into the living room; they all filed in after her, in their usual order: Charlie, Ripper, George and Lennie together, Mr. Darcy, and Lizzie bringing up the rear. She slid the door closed and waded through dogs to get to the kitchen for their breakfast ritual.
On the way, Lizzie snapped peevishly at Mr. D, who tossed his head and sauntered on, unbothered.
While Kelsey’s romantic, Austen-loving heart would have tossed handfuls of glitter confetti if Mr. Darcy and Lizzie had become true loves, and the meet-cute had gone very well, in truth those two had had a few …negotiationsover the past couple weeks. Lizzie thought this snotty new guy to the neighborhood should remember his place, and Mr. Darcy thought Lizzie was an obnoxious hellion. Mr. D had won the skirmish for position, leaving Lizzie at the bottom of the pecking order and quite put out about it.
In fact, they were being extremely Austen-esque, weren’t they? Maybe their love story simply wasn’t finished yet. A girl could hope.
Since the night Dex had told her he needed her, she and Mr. D had pretty much lived in his house. She’d gone home a few times to collect her mail, water her plants, and grab more clothes and toiletries, but she hadn’t spent a night since in her own bed.
That night, he’d fallen asleep in her lap and she’d eventually fallen asleep sitting up. They’d stayed like that all night and made love on the sofa in the morning, before either uttered a word. In some way, they’d formed a silent covenant.
It was so good. She and Dex had gone from a cycle of angst and turmoil to comfortable domesticity literally overnight.
They hadn’t talked about it overtly, hadn’t made an official decision to live together, but he obviously wanted her there, and she emphatically wanted not to be anywhere else, and here they were. Four weeks since they’d first slept together, they were now basically living together. Like, he routinely asked her when she was ‘going to be home,’ and they routinely made plans for meals and activities. They shopped for groceries together. All without either saying ‘hey, let’s live together.’
Kelsey loved that. It seemed supremely romantic to fall into nesting together by pure instinct and desire. No planning, no negotiating, just both of them knowing what they wanted. What was right. Being so secure in their love, despite its newness, that they didn’t have to clarify what they wanted.
They would have to talk eventually. Her lease would run out in a few months, and she’d either need to renew it or give her notice. But Kelsey was content to let that topic rise in its time. For now, she went to bed every night and woke up every morning with a man she loved—a good man, who treated her with love and respect. She spent most of her free time with that man, being quiet and cozy, enjoying each other. Their dogs got along and had made a pack.
She was happy. Every day was a day in her best life. Even this morning, when she had a headache and felt sort of blah.
She did feel blah, though. Her carton of peach yogurt, a breakfast staple, was definitely not hitting the spot this morning. She dumped it out and grabbed a banana instead. About halfway through that she decided she just wasn’t hungry this morning and went back to the bedroom to get ready for the day.
Today’s agenda did not include work for her. She’d worked the clinic on Saturday, so she had today off. It was MLK day, so Hannah was off as well, and Mom had lobbied for one of their occasional ‘girl days.’ This meant shopping and lunch and Mom trying to have serious, heart-to-heart talks with her daughters and assure them that she loved them unconditionally.
It also meant Hannah being a poophead, acting like she was being dragged by her ears along with them, begging for Mom to buy her stuff—more stuff than Mom would already buy—and rebuffing every attempt Mom made to really talk. Mom would feel rejected and keep brightening her attitude to mask her hurt feelings until she was practically manic. Kelsey would play cruise director-slash-mediator and try to keep everyone from falling apart.
You know, the typical Helm women dynamic.
Still, Kelsey enjoyed about eighty-five percent of these girls’ days. They would laugh together and eventually have a real talk, Hannah would enjoy herself despite herself, Mom would be reassured that everybody was okay, and Kelsey would enjoy her time with them both. Even when her little sister was a poophead.
Dex was still in the shower—the man took ridiculously long showers—and she’d had hers while he worked out in his little home gym, so she went to the other bathroom to put her makeup on and do her hair.
She was doing her brows when he appeared in the doorway, his hair slicked back and a towel wrapped around his waist.
The guy was sinfully good looking. Fit absolutely everywhere, and magazine-cover handsome. Sometimes she could hardly believe he was hers.
“Hey.”
She smiled. “Hey. Something wrong?”
He shook his head. “You weren’t in the bedroom, and I thought maybe you’d left.”
“Not without saying goodbye.”
His grin was broad enough to show his dimples under his beard. He smiled a lot more lately, and she could hardly wait until it was warm enough that he’d shave. The beard looked great, but she liked the dimples better.
Coming into the room, he stood behind her and put his hands on her hips. Kelsey went back to her makeup application; Dex liked to watch.
“How’s your head?” he asked, knowing she’d woken with a headache.
“Better, thanks.” It wasn’t better, precisely, but getting up and moving around—and a cup of coffee—had made it less important.
“I’m glad. What time are you gonna be home today?”
