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We returnto the bungalow just as the sun is beginning to set. We have another shower together, and as I wait for my hair to dry, I start making dinner for the two of us.
As we eat, we sit on the sofa side by side, and I turn on the evening news. I lean my head against Brett's shoulder without even thinking about it, and as I do so, I realize this is another thing I've been secretly missing. The soft closeness of just sitting next to a man and watching TV with him. It's wonderful.
I set my plate on the coffee table when I'm done eating and lean further into him, burying my face in his shoulder. He smells so clean, all flowery from using my body wash, and the desire blooms within me to make him smell like himself again. I want to make him sweat.
I place my lips against his neck, and the rest of the world fades away until he says, "Look, it's Tinsley."
There she is, Tinsley Simon, her long blond hair in a massive bun on the top of her head.
"So, Tinsley," the reporter asks, grinning from ear to ear, "are the rumors true? You and Ford Augustine are getting married here in Barton Beach?"
Tinsley giggles, her whitened teeth shining brighter than the moon. "I guess it's okay to talk about now," she says. "Well, Ford and I debated for what felt like forever about where we wanted to get married. But eventually, he agreed that Barton Beach was the only place we could do it."
The reporter practically squeals. "That's wonderful! We're so happy to have you!"
"I'm so happy to haveyou. In fact, I want to personally invite you to the big day." Tinsley takes the reporter's hand and squeezes it.
Brett chuckles. "So she finally announced it. That's gonna be good for business, right? More people in town means more people coming to the bakery?"
"Tinsley was right about you," I tease. "You only think about the money."
He shrugs. "I'm a numbers guy. What can I say?"
"But it's not like she said anything about Sugar Breeze," I say.
As Brett holds a finger to his lips, his eyes telling me to wait just a moment before I say anything more, he points back at the TV.
"And I would also like topersonallythank Denise Lawson and her historic Sugar Breeze Bakery," Tinsley's voice cheers from the screen. "She's going to be making our beautiful cake, and it will beamazing!"
"You said the Sugar Breeze Bakery?" Rosa asks, eyes sparkling. "Right here in downtown Barton Beach?"
"The very same one," Tinsley giggles. "Denise does such good work. Without her, this wedding would be just falling apart!"
"See?" Brett gives me a smug smile. "You spoke too soon."
"I wish she wouldn't do that," I say before I can stop myself.
Brett's smile falls. "Do what? Say how amazing you are?"
"Isn't she getting people's expectations too high?"
Bringing his face closer to mine, he lays the curves of our noses together. His breath caresses my face as he says, "No, she isn't. Your Crescent Moon cookies alone are good enough to earn all the praise she can give. You're better than you give yourself credit for."
As his words pass into me, hovering for a few moments in my mind, they begin to settle. I think about my debts, the things I did to keep the Sugar Breeze on its feet. I need this money. I need Tinsley's words to keep me going.
And, somewhere deeper in my soul, I need Brett's words of praise too. Every compliment, every sweet word, makes me feel like a goddess on earth.
As we lay in the afterglow in my bed, waiting patiently for sleep to come again, he holds me to him, the big spoon to my little spoon. Periodically, he kisses my neck and strokes my arm adoringly. And though sleep found me so quickly last night, tonight it takes a bit longer to arrive.
Brittany's question at the bakery floats once again into my mind:"Is it official, then? The two of you?"
And though it seemed too ridiculous to think of Brett and me as a couple just this morning, now that I realize how he makes me feel—and knowing how he makes other women feel too—I want nothing more than for him to be officially mine. Whenever he goes back home to Houston and some other woman tries to come on to him, I want him to say, "No thanks. I can't. I have Denise. I have a girlfriend."
That's it. That's the word.Girlfriend. Possessive and intimate. I want to be his girlfriend. I want him to be mine and only mine.
"Brett?" I ask quietly through the dark.
