Page 56 of Tickled Pink

I raise my head to look at him. “Max?”

He gazes at me and pushes the sweat-touched hair out of my eyes. “I love you,” he whispers.

I smile. “I love you, too.”

He kisses my forehead and wraps his arms even tighter around me.

Chapter Eighteen

Thad

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

I squeeze Phoebe even tighter, so tight she releases a constricted sound when she tries to laugh.

“Tha—” she says. “Ii cahn beerthd.”

“You can’t breathe?” I loosen her, only to grip her shoulders with both hands. “That sounds serious. We should get you back upstairs. Lie down for a little while.”

She playfully slaps my hands. ”No,” she says, pointing a stern finger at me. “Bad. I’m not going back upstairs. You’ll have me naked in five minutes.”

“That’s absurd,” I say. “I could do it in two.”

Max scoffs behind me. “Amateur,” he murmurs.

I whip my head back to glare at him. “Hey, it’s my turn. You be quiet.”

Phoebe snorts. “Now, boys. No fighting over little old me.”

She pops up onto her tippy toes and gives me a warm kiss. I cup her cheeks, holding her for as long as possible. Phoebe. My beautiful woman.

But sharing is caring.

I release her, plunking one last kiss on her forehead before she slips from my arms and into his. Max hugs her tightly, the smile on his face similar to my own.

“I’ll miss you,” he says to her.

They kiss. I watch. I’m used to it, but so is he. She is not just mine or his. She’s ours.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A knock strikes our front door, the sound echoing through the foyer of our brownstone.

“That’s Jackie,” Phoebe says as she blots her eyes.

If I had my way, I’d throw her over my shoulder, take her back upstairs, and lick her tears away.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to drive you to the airport?” I ask. “I know all the fun secret passageways through JFK.”

Phoebe chuckles as Max leaves one last kiss on her temple. “No, it’s better this way. And I don’t want to cry in public.”

I open the door on Jackie. She stands tall on our stoop in sharp black heels and a tight pencil skirt with a jade green blouse. “Ms. Bone,” I greet her.

She peeks at me over the rims of her sunglasses. “Mr. Hemsley.”

I bow my head.

“You ready to go?” she asks Phoebe.

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