Page 116 of Married With Lies

“Thank you, Peggy,” I call to her.

She straightens her back and strands of her loose silver hair dance in the light breeze.

Peggy’s kitchen smells like her vanilla candles. We manage to rescue our breakfast from the cats just in time as a menacing growl comes from the corner of the room. Little Tinkerbell cowers in the corner of the tiny kitchen. No matter how I try to coax her away from the wall, she keeps her wide brown eyes trained on Cale amid a constant rumble of fear.

In the hopes of restoring Tinkerbell’s tranquility, we carry our plates of sliced fruit, cheese wedges and freshly baked sourdough biscuits to the main house, along with cups of Peggy’s tea.

Since we’re being all informal, I think the best place to eat breakfast is in my bedroom. Apollo and Zeus are very excited over Cale’s return but they’ll have to wait in line if they want his attention. I’m keeping him to myself for a little while first.

The dogs whine when they get booted from the bedroom but they seem to understand when I promise they will get treats later if they cooperate.

We sit on the floor. We listen to Elton John singing Can You Feel The Love Tonight. Cale wants to hear all the news about Bright Hearts. He listens intently when I describe our recent arrivals and lament the fact that the overcrowded county shelter is in dire straits.

Cale suggests hiring more help and building additional housing structures on the property. He suggests calling one of them The Doghouse Part Deux.

I would marry this man in a heartbeat.

That is, if we weren’t already married in the official sense. I would marry him for real and forever.

Cale says nothing more about Luca. Or about anything else that happened in New York. I know there must be things weighing on his mind. I know he’ll share them when he’s ready.

He looks up when I stand suddenly. I see no reason to be coy so I take my shirt off, pleased that this morning I chose to wear a sexy black bra.

“Hey Connelly, do you still want to touch my tits or are you too tired for that?”

Cale drops the rest of his biscuit on his plate and jumps to his feet. “Never too fucking tired for that.”

His shirt is hauled over his head and thrown down before he charges.

The next time we’ll go slow and take our time making love. Right now we’re in a fever. My bra is unhooked. His pants are dropped. My jeans are pulled off and my panties go with them.

It turns out the bed becomes far creakier when I have company. If anyone is in the house they’re getting treated to quite the symphony between the rhythmic squeaking of the bed and my involuntary moaning.

Cale shows no mercy, clearly not caring if we’re heard by half the state. He moves hard and fast, sending me on a collision course with paradise. He rises up on his palms and stares down at me with fiery intensity in those green eyes that were once such a mystery.

“I love you,” Cale says with hoarse urgency. He pumps harder. “I fucking love you, Sadie.”

No fantasy could ever top this moment. I don’t want it to end but I’m getting sent over the peak anyway. When I come, constellations explode behind my eyes and he holds me as I shudder. Cale waits until I’m finished quaking in the aftermath and then he lets himself go. I’m captivated by the expression on his face and commit his heavy groan to memory.

Afterwards, he collects me in his arms as we catch our breath. Cale didn’t sleep last night. I’m not sure he’s slept much in weeks. I can see how tired he is and when I suggest slipping under the covers he has no objection. He falls asleep on my pillow. I kiss his forehead and spend a few quiet minutes just reveling in the aftermath of this past hour. And all the events that came before it, ever since Cale Connelly crashed a Christmas Eve party.

Nothing could have prepared me for this outcome. In the beginning, we couldn’t have been more different. I suppose in many ways we still are. But I’m sure Cale would agree that we’re now alike in the most important ways.

Love does change you. I think real love helps you become the best version of yourself.

Cale and I, we’ve changed each other.

As I slip away and quietly get dressed, the sight of him asleep in my bed under my quilt fills me with so much happiness that I feel like singing. However, I can’t carry a tune at all and the noise would deprive Cale of his much needed rest. I switch on the ceiling fan and leave in silence instead.

Later, we’ll have plenty of chances to catch up on the time we’ve missed. We’ll have our whole lives.

33

CALE

I’m jolted awake from such a dead sleep that my first thought is whether or not a bomb just went off.

Then I see Elton John playing a piano as he sings into a microphone.

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