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“Of course, you are,” Al says flatly. “It wouldn’t be this mission if there wasn’t cat herding involved.” To me, he adds, “You ready, ma’am?”
Casting a quick glance Matty’s way to see him watching me with a hopeful look, clearly needing me to play nice with his handler, I nod, “Sure. But call me Nora. I’ll sit in the back and try to dry out the cats while you drive.”
“I have towels,” Al says, taking the umbrella handle from Matty. “And a clean sweatshirt for you. Don’t want you to catch a chill.”
As we walk away, I look over my shoulder to see Matty standing in the rain, watching us go, and pray it isn’t the last time I see him. I’m suddenly positive we can overcome any of the obstacles still standing in our path—I’ll take my business on the road in his van if I have to—as long as he comes home to me tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MATTY
By the time I get to Bad Dog, break into The Cupcake Factory to clone their ancient hard drive, meet with Al at a truck stop diner for my final debriefing, and get back to the hotel, it’s nearly one in the morning.
But when I trudge into the lobby in the soggy clothes I changed back into after ditching my black sweatsuit in the trunk, there are still several couples in the lobby. Some sip coffee while they play board games, others chat softly over a wine or beer, but they all look starry-eyed and happy to be there.
This conference seems to be doing some real good for these people.
Even a few days ago, I might have cynically thought the changes won’t last once they get home. Bad habits are hard to break, and relationship issues run too deep to be solved in a day or two.
But now…
Now, I’m ready to give up the dream I’ve been meticulously planning for nearly two years, store my traveling van, and see if Nora wants to get a place together. In just a little over thirty-six hours with this woman, I’ve realized this is where I belong. Not in Bad Dog or Minnesota, but with Nora. Wherever she is, as long as I’m with her, I’ll be home.
And I know she feels the same way. The connection between us is earthy and real, but also a little mystical, a fact she proves by opening the door just as I’m emerging from the elevator, even though I didn’t call to tell her I was on my way.
The moment I see her in the doorway—hair fluffy around her shoulders and the rest of her cozy in the flannel pajamas I gave her at my treehouse—all the stress and pain of the day fades away. I no longer feel the tightness in my shoulders or the ache in the back of my head from where Rex’s ring bounced off my skull.
I only feel…joy.
Thisis what joy feels like.
In the increasing isolation of the past few years and all the pressure from my family to quit dicking around and make something of my life, I’d nearly forgotten. But now, it hits me so hard, it sucks the air from my lungs. In a world filled with so much suffering, it’s so easy to get lost in the darkness and forget that this is also part of being human. This ease and light and beauty.
And she is the most beautiful thing of all.
At the door, I don’t say “hello” or “thank you” or “don’t ever leave me.” I don’t say anything at all. I just dump my wallet and keys on the entry table, pull her into my arms, and kiss her with everything in my heart, closing the door behind us as we sway together into the room.
When we finally come up for air, she whispers, “The cats are asleep in a fresh box behind the sofa. Housekeeping changed our sheets for us while you were gone. Come to bed with me?”
“Nothing in the world I’d love more,” I whisper back, taking her hand and letting her lead me down the shadowed hall toward the bedroom.
“Say that part again,” she says as she stops beside the bed and reaches for the bottom of my shirt.
“What part?” I ask as my head emerges. I toss the fabric to the ground and reach for the top of my jeans, but Nora’s already popping the button through the hole.
“The love part, of course,” she says. “I need to make sure it wasn’t a dream.”
“Right, the love part,” I say, smiling in the darkness. “I’m wildly, completely in love with you, Nora Boudreaux. I’ve been fighting it, but sometime in the past day and a half, I realized that was not only stupid but an exercise in futility.”
“Absolute futility,” she agrees, dragging my zipper down. “We’re bananas and chocolate, baby.”
“Two things that shouldn’t go together,” I agree, starting to work on the buttons on her pajama top.
“But that totally do,” she says, her voice soft and filled with wonder. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”
“Putting the van in storage ASAP.” I push the flannel down her arms, revealing the lacy camisole she’s wearing beneath.
As soon as her arms are free, she wraps them tight around my neck and kisses me, hard and deep. “Oh, Matty, I’m so glad,” she murmurs against my lips. “I would have gone with you, but I really don’t want to live in a van. And even if I hire a caretaker for Gram, I still don’t want to be too far away. She might need me, and I’ll always need her. She’s so wise and was so right about sex. I really need to have more of it. Lots more.”
