Page 22 of The Grim, Me, and The Reaper Makes Three

“Are you serious?” William couldn’t keep the grin from his face and felt his eyes fill with tears. “Atti, tell me you’re serious.”

William hissed at the sharp, electric pain that shot straight to his cock as Atti tugged at his hair. “It is time to celebrate our retirement, love.”

And then their mouths met, Atticus immediately seizing control with every demanding sweep of his tongue. It was a kiss that robbed William of his senses, everything fading except for the building heat between them.

Atticus broke away, his breaths ragged against William’s mouth. “Let me wrap this up so that we can properly celebrate.” As though his meaning was unclear, Atticus reached a hand down and cupped William’s hard cock through his pants.

William whimpered. “I,” he started, feeling too many things at the same time. “Can we wait for her?”

The expression of happiness on Atticus’ face was bone-melting. “Of course, pup. We will wait for her.” With one last squeeze of his cock, Atticus backed away from him, eyes shamelessly tracking up and down William’s body. “Now go pack anything you would like to bring with you while I finish up with Marjorie.”

William couldn’t help it; he ran up the stairs with a wide grin on his face. He’d been waiting for this moment. Waiting for the beginning of their eternity together, an eternity that had grown to include someone else. Someone who fit with them so beautifully, as though, perhaps, she had been made for them.

“Icannot say that I am going to miss this place,” William mused, as they stood together in the middle of the living room, each of them with a single duffel in hand.

Atticus made a quiet hum of agreement. “It really is terribly depressing.”

William shifted on his feet. He was ready, itching really, to be gone.

As though sensing his tension, Atticus reached out and tangled their hands together. “Patience, pup,” he said. “We have eternity.”

And with a flash, the dark lines of the Reaper house were replaced by brightly painted storefronts.

A quick glance around revealed what William had suspected. The area appeared to be a small town with a single main street. Dense forest was visible behind the buildings, towering pines and oaks with the occasional grove of poplar, their silver-greenleaves quivering in the gentle breeze. The weather was mild, the sky clear, and William took a deep, indulgent breath of the fresh air.

“There it is,” Atticus said, an unexpected reverence in his voice.

Following his gaze, William looked across the two-lane road, mouth spreading into a smile when he saw the black serif letters painted across the white, scalloped awning. “Slice of Life,” it read, although the word “Life” had a red line slashed through it, and the word “Death” was scrawled above.

Funny girl, William thought as a chuckle escaped his lips. Before he realized that his feet were moving, he was walking across the street.

Wide windows gave a full view into the small shop. Round tables were scattered around the open seating area, each topped with a tea candle and a vase of bright wildflowers. Along one wall stood a glass display case, behind which stood the woman they were looking for. He felt Atticus move into place beside him, and their hands found each other, fingers knitting tightly together.

For a moment, William let himself watch her. She wore an apron with little flowers sewn along the edges, and underneath was a soft-looking gray cardigan cut low in the front, showing off the swell of her breasts. Her dark hair was artfully curled, hanging loose but kept out of her face with a lavender bandana.

His gaze lingered on her face, on the confident smile and the dark makeup that lined her upper eyelids, giving her features a feline quality. She was pretty. So pretty that it was hard to draw a full breath when she was around.

“She really is, is she not?”

William smiled sheepishly over at Atticus, realizing he must have spoken out loud. “She is. And I think she might want us, really truly want us.”

A more serious expression came over Atticus as he turned to face him. One of his hands came up to cradle William’s jaw, a gesture that never failed to communicate the warmth and love that they shared. “No matter what she says,” Atticus said, dark eyes piercing as they stared into his. “No matter if she wants us or not, you have me. You have me for all of it, William. Every moment that is coming toward us, each second of eternity, I belong to you.”

William swallowed against a wave of emotion. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that from him. “Love you, Atti,” he whispered.

Atticus pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Now come, pup. I fancy some pie.”

Abell tinkled as they pushed the door open.

“Hi! Welcome to—oh.”

Tati stared at them, eyes blinking, mouth agape. William couldn’t help but smile.

“Hi there, Tink,” he said, slowly walking toward the counter.

“What,” she said, her voice faint. Her eyes darted between the two of them. “What are you doing here?”

Atticus reached the counter first, placing his hands flat against the white tiles. “We are here to see you, Tatiana,” he said, his voice even and calm. “There are some things that we would like to discuss with you.”

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