Page 19 of Beards and Broken Hearts

With tears brimming in her eyes, she nods at me as we lie tangled on the couch, still slick with evidence of our love.

“I love you too. I always have, and I always will.”

The words inflate my lungs with life so great they could burst. I love this woman more than any bad or good memory, and it’s time I stop keeping myself from being happy. I’ll never hurt her again. She will feel as treasured as I’ve promised.

Our lips connect gently and move together slowly, so different from any other kiss before. We were in love as teenagers, but this love is stronger and smarter, and it’s going to last the rest of our lives.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Daphne

Sneaking out of the house isn’t an option, but once dressed, we climb the stairs and find the door unlocked. Lucky for my wine-colored dress, no one is around to witness our walk of shame. We were down there for hours, and I’m sure both Elenore and Darrel heard me and Layton making up. My cheeks burn just thinking about it.

Upstairs, we find two plastic-wrapped plates on the island, but there is no meddling granny. I’m sure she’s upstairs gloating at her success, but I can’t even be mad as I’m glowing from multiple orgasms. Layton’s smile and constant touch don’t hurt anything, either. He hasn’t stopped those roaming hands for more than a second to pull up his pants. I know he wants to reassure me he’s here to stay, but I don’t feel insecure. I know his heart. He might not be the boy he once was, but I’m just as much in love with the man he’s grown into.

“Want to rewarm this at my place? I’ll feed you every bite,” he whispers in the dimly lit kitchen.

“Deal,” I say with a giggle.

Layton grabs both plates, and we make our way out to our cars. I follow him through town to his house, unable to believe how this day turned out. He lives a few blocks from mine. His house is all white and has a big wrap-around porch but nowhere to sit.

“You need some chairs out here,” I say casually as he unlocks the front door.

“Never wanted to sit with anyone before. Will you come with me to pick some out? I could put up a swing if you want.”

The smile his words produce is too much, but it feels so good I don’t hide it. Instead, I nod. I'm not sure the emotion stuck in my throat wouldn’t choke away words if I tried to speak.

Inside, his house is simple but tidy. The walls are a light gray, the curtains a dark navy blue with a matching rug. His couch is a dark gray, and the few photos on the wall are of men standing outside or inside the fire station. No art, but that doesn’t surprise me, and I’m glad there are no surprises. Again, my heart feels like I still know this man who’s been gone from me for too long.

“I’m glad you became a fireman,” I say, looking at a photo of him and several other men dressed in fire gear. He was so young in the photo that it reminds me of the boy I knew twelve years ago.

“Yeah, honestly, I wanted to call you the day I qualified. You’re the first person I thought of when I got the good news.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, turning toward the kitchen to see him leaning against the island. The sound of our food rewarming in the microwave fills the silence as he ponders how to answer me.

“I knew I hurt you and didn’t feel like I deserved my good news, let alone to call and gloat to you about it. Figured you wouldn’t answer anyway, but that’s just an excuse. By that time, I was so ashamed for ghosting you that I couldn’t bring myself to call. I wish I had. Even if you did tell me to go fuck myself. I would have loved to hear your voice. I think it would have knocked some sense into me. Might have chased you down, begging you to forgive me.”

I think about his words, and they make me smile.

I was so angry back then. It’s only over time that the anger softened, and I realized as an adult that things happen in life, and we don’t always make the best decisions for ourselves or others.

“I wish you would have. Even if I did get mad at you.”

“Your anger would have been justified.”

“I know,” I reply with a soft smile.

The microwave beeps, and I sit across from him on the island as he pours two glasses of wine. We didn’t drink much earlier if you count the few sips and taste the fine wine on each other. A memory seared into my brain for eternity.

We settle into a comfortable silence as we eat and drink. Memories from the past come to mind, merging with the fantasy we played out in the cellar. His touch still lingers as we enjoy our meal.

“I’m really glad you’re here, not just in Magnolia Point, but here in my house. I’ve never had anyone over before, but this feels really good. Will you stay with me tonight?”

His question is sweet, and I see the sincerity in his eyes. He didn’t have to mention that he hadn’t had someone over here before, but I love hearing it.

“Sure. I would love that. Can I borrow some sweats?”

“How about just a t-shirt? Or nothing at all,” he says with a grin that steals my breath. I clench my legs together, already feeling the need for him again.

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