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It took me a second, but I finally figured out what bugged me. “My dragon sculpture! It’s gone! Oh my God, someone took it!”
“No,” Mark said quickly. “It’s safe. I had some guys come by yesterday. The restoration team put it into storage for you. It has some smoke damage, but they’re cleaning it off. We were able to retrieve almost all of your yard art.”
I gave him a watery smile, dabbing at my eyes with the tissue. “Thank you for doing all of this, and thank you for saving my art. That dragon was one of the first big pieces I made. It has a lot of meaning to me. And I spent years combing yard and estate sales to find all those serving spoons for the wind spinner. That makes me feel so much better. To have saved something when I was sure there wouldn’t be anything left.”
“They’re safe. Come on, the workers are around back. We can see if they managed to salvage anything else.”
My backyard looked like a crime scene as men and women in white, baggy pants wearing gloves combed through the wreckage. My studio had fared a little better than my house, and I was happy to see that most of my metal sculptures had survived, along with some of my wood working tools. They were able to retrieve a surprising amount of items from inside my home as well, and my heart gave a little cheer as they showed me some of the art glass that I’d inherited from my adopted grandmother when she passed. Sooty, but salvageable with a good cleaning.
After a couple hours of going through stuff, I took off the coverup the cleanup crew had given me to wear. It kept the soot off my clothes, but didn’t offer much circulation. The brisk breeze dried the sweat on my skin as I stretched out, raising my arms over my head.
Mark stepped up quickly behind me, lowering my arms to my sides and holding them there.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I looked up over my shoulder at him.
He scowled at someone behind me, but when I glanced over, everyone busily looked everywhere but at us. “What is your problem?”
“Did you forget? You’re not wearing panties.”
I flushed and turned so I curved into his tall frame. “Oh shit. Did I give anyone a free show?”
“No, but from now on, you’re only wearing pants.”
I grinned but shook my head. “Sorry. You may get to tell me what to wear in the bedroom, but not outside of it.”
I could tell he didn’t agree with me, but my stomach growled loudly enough to distract both of us.
“Hungry?” Mark asked with a laugh.
Rubbing my rumbling belly, I frowned up at him. “Breakfast was hours ago.”
“Do you want to grab something on the way home or eat at our house?”
My belly did a little flip at ‘our house.’
“You mean your house?”
His lips quirked, and he raised his glasses, so they rested on top of his head. “Our house.”
I searched his face and tried to figure out if he joked, but he seemed serious. “Um, I don’t recall you asking me to move in with you.”
He gave me an innocent look that was so full of shit. “Really? Thought we talked about it. I was going to let you pick one of the guest rooms for your new study, and I thought I showed you the plans for your new studio. You know, the one with the thirty-foot ceilings and massive sliding doors, so you can finally work on the big pieces you’ve been dreaming about? It’ll be next to the pool, so when you’re wiped out from welding all day, you can just strip off your clothes and jump in.”
I smiled, swaying side-to-side a little in his arms. “Nope, don’t remember any of that.”
“Think harder. I must have told you how much I love you, and how I’m never going to let you go. Any of that ring a bell?”
“It might.”
“And I know we talked about how happy Honey would be if Vali moved in, and how I can’t live without you.”
All glowy inside, I slowly nodded, “I think I remember something about that.”
“And do you remember telling me how you can’t live without me, and how you can’t wait to make me a Daddy Bear for real, right?”
“No, that I don’t remember.”
He released a put-out sigh. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You’re so bad.”
My stomach growled again.
“Uh oh,” Mark said as he laughed. “We better get that beast fed before you get hangry.”
“I don’t get hangry.”
“Right.”
“I don’t.”
“Sure.”
“Shut up.”
“See? Hangry. Did you want to eat at home, grab something on the way back, or go out to eat? No pressure. If you want to just go home, I’m fine with that.”
I thought about it, doing a quick bit of soul searching and finding myself still good. Weird. I had triggers all over the place—strangers, my burned down house, everyone staring at us all the time—but I didn’t feel any unease.
