Page 7 of Forgotten Romance

“Of course. Nothing shady, but I’m a good sounding board, and I’m romantic as fuck. Ask Joey.”

There’s a murmured voice in the background.

“Ah, actually, don’t ask Joey,” Art says. “I’m your friend, and they basically call me Casanova—that should be evidence enough.”

There’s more I can’t make out from Joey in the background before Art continues.

“Again, do not ask Joey. He’s very busy with schoolwork and being locked in my sex dungeon.”

“I miss sex.”

Art chuckles. “I have tried many times to fix that for you, but my blow job offer is officially off the table. I happen to like my balls still attached to my body.”

“That’s fine. I don’t know where your mouth has been anyway,” I say absently as I hear Davey’s footsteps on the stairs. “I’ve gotta go,” I hiss into the phone.

“In that case, I will begin plotting the worst idea ever. Talk soon.”

I hurry to hang up as Davey rounds the corner into the kitchen. It always throws me how perfectly he fits into the house and my life. He’s never out of place, and the urge to walk over and wrap my arms around him, to back him laughingly into the wall as I try to steal all the kisses I can, is strong.

Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets.

“They asleep?”

“I didn’t even get to finish the book.” He walks over to the sink to wash his hands. “There was something sticky in Van’s bed.”

“Huh. I guess that’s where the candy cane went.”

“Candy cane?”

I wave the question off. “Want to watch a movie?”

Davey’s face lights up, and it makes me smile back automatically. “Yeah, what were you thinking?”

“Anything that doesn’t have kids’ characters in it works for me.”

“I might just duck out and check on my?—”

“Your LEGO?” I grin. “It’s fine. It’s always fine. The kids aren’t allowed out there without you, and I give it a dust every Sunday night.”

“You’ve been looking after it?”

“With how long it took you to build that spaceship and all the cursing and late nights, of course. I can’t go through that again.”

Davey laughs and grabs two cans of Coke out of the fridge.

He follows me through to the living room, where we both scoop up handfuls of little cars to toss inside the bucket I keep them in. Then we flop down on the couch, side by side, and it’s exactly the same as it ever was.

“You work tomorrow?” he asks as I flip through the options, looking for something interesting.

“Yep. I’ll drop the kids at school and then go in.”

“I can do it if you like? Just get yourself ready.”

That will make things easier. “Sweet, thanks.” I debate over asking about his work, but how can I not? It’s the most important part of his life … for now. Even if I want to kill it with fire. “How’s the promotion going?”

“Eh, you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Of course I do. It makes you happy.” And I’ll stop talking there because perfect husband Mack doesn’t do bitterness. Only support and all things positive. Davey’s number one fan.

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