Page 96 of Peppermint Bark

At the top of the hill, I feel a wave of relief when I see Grace’s yellow townhouse. A deep peace envelopes me immediately, all the restlessness evaporates.

I press through the door, where Grace sits at a walnut table, the girl on her lap.

I found her. I can’t lose her.

I can’t lose them.

Then the little girl is safely in my arms. Her chubby arms wrap around my neck, her short legs around my waist. I lean to press a kiss to Grace’s temple.

The girl reaches between my broken ribs to pluck a pink peppermint shard, which she pops into her mouth and sighs in contentment.

My gaze shifts to Grace. “I love you, darling.”

Grace’s lips part, but no sound comes out.

My eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through the window.

The dream hovered in my mind, thinking of that home with Grace. A weight I hadn’t realized I carried had been lifted and I could finally breathe. Deep breaths of lavender shampoo, cinnamon apples, and sunshine.

Now that I’d taken those full breaths, I wasn’t sure I could live without them.

Her pillow was cold. Couldn’t the woman ever sleep in?

In the kitchen I walked up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist, gathered her hair over her shoulder, and brought my lips to her neck. I needed to feel her close.

I didn’t want to let go. I never wanted to let her go.

“I just had the most amazing dream,” I murmured into her hair.

“Mmm?” she hummed. Her hand wrapped around the back of my neck, but she didn’t tilt her head to meet my eyes.

“I was in San Francisco, living in a yellow townhouse with wisteria over the porch,” I pressed a soft kiss on her neck. “You lived there with me.”

Her hand in my hair froze as her back stiffened. She took a ragged breath. “Sounds like an interesting dream.”

“What if it wasn’t a dream?” I asked. It hadn’t felt like a dream.

It felt like a premonition.

She pivoted slowly eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

“Come to California.”

She seemed to stop breathing. “But … when?”

“Whenever you want, for as long as you want.” I leaned down to kiss her, a lingering kiss. A kiss that might not have to end. “I vote forever.”

She brought her fingertips to her lips, and her eyes softened.

“We can stay in my current apartment or you can find us a new place to live, choose the neighborhood you like best.”

When her lip quirked, I pressed further.

“Maybe you want to stay downtown, close to everything. Or maybe we move out of the city to a house with a yard.”

People would want to visit Grace. We’d need a guest room.

We’d need a nursery.

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