AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The waiter, who caught my gushing review, laughed. “I’m glad to hear it, sir.”
“I would ask what’s in it, but you know what? I don’t want to know. It’s amazing and perfect, and we’ll leave it at that.”
His smile widened. “As you wish. And how’s the steak?”
“Perfection,” I said with a happy sigh. “Absolute perfection.”
When we walked back to the Bellagio, connected to the Paris Hotel by a walkway, I kept raving about the food. “Is this normal for you?” I asked when I’d run out of superlatives. “That kind of food, I mean.”
“Have I had it before? Yes, several times, but I wouldn’t consider it normal. It’s still a treat for me, and I appreciate it even more with you because you were so clearly enjoying it.”
“It would almost be sad to grow used to eating like that. After that, what is there left to surprise you?”
“Oh, the bar can go much higher, trust me. Tiago and I have had the privilege of dining in some of Europe’s top restaurants, and that’s still on a different level. It’s much more than mere food. Almost like an immersive experience.”
“Won’t you miss that after your retirement?”
One of the many things I appreciated about Tomás was that he never took such questions lightly. He never answered glibly or tried to satisfy me with an easy, superficial answer.
“Maybe,” he said. “But it’s not like I’ll never have the opportunity again. Once the boys are both off to college, we may have more opportunity to sneak away for a weekend, and we could try some new restaurants, experience new cities together.”
“I’d love that.”
True to his word, Tomás hadn’t booked any new assignments. He was fulfilling the commitments that had already been on his schedule, but once those were done and over with—which would be in a few months—he’d be home for good. And by home, I meant my house, since he’d never actually spent the night in his own house, something I loved to tease him with. Jess and Sam would be moving in next month, and they were over the moon.
“This weekend was perfect, baby,” I whispered later that evening when we snuggled up against each other in bed. “You made me feel so special, the way you treated me. Thank you.”
He held me a little tighter. “You’re so worth it. All I want to do is make you happy.”
“You do, baby. You make me perfectly happy, but I don’t even need a weekend like this for that.”
“No?”
“You make me happy by being you, Tomás Banner. The sweetness of your love and the pleasure of your company is all I need.”
He was quiet for a few beats. “And my cock,” he said, and I snorted.
“And your cock, baby. But mostly you.”
28
TOMÁS
I’d never been here, and it was more peaceful than I had imagined. The fallen leaves draped over gravestones like blankets, adding a splash of autumn color to the endless rows of gray and white marble. Others covered the ground in a splash of vibrant orange and red hues. Golden sunshine peeked between the clouds, pushing through the trees and casting long shadows. The last wildflowers still bloomed, and several graves held withering bouquets or simple, small vases with a single rose or lily.
My mom, who’d grown up Catholic, had instilled some sense of faith in us both. Not so much we felt guilty or afraid of God’s judgment, but enough to be open to a higher being, someone who looked out for us. I’d never found a satisfying answer to the big question of what came after this life and whether there was an afterlife, but I’d like to think there was a heaven. And if there was, it had to be filled with good people, those who had brought love and joy to others.
That had to include Samuel Thompson. My memories of him were good ones, even after the scandal we’d caused when Coach Keeling caught us. Samuel had been a fun guy, warm and caring, and we’d both been happy to experiment with each other.
But more importantly, he’d been a great husband to Fir and a wonderful father to their sons, and only because of that he deserved to be in heaven. And if he was, or if there was even the slightest chance he might look down on Fir and his kids and see what was happening, I owed him this much.
I’d looked up the location of his grave in the handy online directory of the cemetery. He was all the way in the back, and I slowly made my way there, carrying the lavender I had harvested from my garden—an unexpected gift from Carol. I’d tied the sprigs with a purple ribbon, and it looked far more stylish than I had expected. The amazing fragrance competed with the earthy, damp smell of wet leaves and soil.
I scanned the names on the graves. Some were familiar, the same surnames as people I’d known. Too many young people, even kids.
Oh. I stopped as I caught his name.
Essex Coombe. Beloved son and brother. USMC KIA.
