Page 91 of Forty

I drop a kiss on Nevaeh’s temple. “I’m fine. And you’re going to be fine, too.”

“We’re both fine.”

“Yes.” It’s not true, but I am going to make it so. “After this, I’m going to take you home, and I’m never letting you leave.”

“Okay. But I’m going to need to make some changes.”

“Like what?”

“I want a swimming pool.”

“You can have the biggest swimming pool they make.”

Her lips curve, and then a shadow passes over her face. I glance down at Larry. He’s unpacking the wound, but he’s being careful. Gentle. He better.

“Does it hurt?” I would take it from her if I could. And I’d take everything back.

She ignores the question. “When I say we stay together, we stay together. From here on out. If you can’t do that, there’s the door. You don’t know what’s best for us. We decide. Both.”

“I am never leaving you again.”

“It’s settled then.” She squeezes my hands. “We’re getting a pool with a slide and a swim up bar.”

“I love you,” I murmur in her ear. I need her to know. I am a stubborn man, and I make the wrong calls, but I know a gift when I’m given one.

I’m not stupid enough to squander a second chance.

And I can recognize heaven. Even backwards.

14

NEVAEH

There’s a quarter-sized patch of raw pink scar tissue on my upper right thigh. The flesh is a little dented, but all-in-all, it’s not so bad. It’s nowhere near as bad as Forty’s. It’s not even sore anymore, but the skin feels tight, and it itches sometimes.

Fay-Lee pokes it. I float away.

“Does that hurt?” she asks.

I half-heartedly splash her, but she’s already wet and thoroughly buzzed off her third margarita. She flips me the bird and spins herself in her pink flamingo inflatable.

“Yes, that hurts. Come here and let me put my finger your eye. See if that hurts.” I’m exaggerating. Like I said, all considering, I got off easy.

“I’m tappin’ a kidney. You ladies want anything?” Shirlene swings her legs over the side of her chaise lounge and gives herself a minute before she stands. I finally convinced her to take a day off. She works herself too damn hard.

“More margarita!” Fay-Lee calls from her flamingo.

“I’m good.”

“Spray down that chair with a hose while I’m inside, will you?” Shirlene plucks her white bikini out of her ass crack. I want her confidence when I’m sixty-whatever. “The plastic’s startin’ to cook me like a George Foreman grill.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” I give her a salute. She rolls her eyes.

When she’s inside, I splash her lounger the best I can from the pool. I’m not gettin’ out, dragging the hose over, coiling it back up so Forty doesn’t pitch a fit. I’m an injured woman.

When I was first recovering, everyone spoiled the hell out of me. Shirlene was over every night cooking dinner, Ray and Boots made Charge drive them over, and Angel, Grinder, Larry, and Sunny all dropped by. Lou came over to watch TV almost every day after work. It was an amazing week or two. Now people poke me and ask me to hose off their chairs.

Of course, Forty’s still going strong with the spoiling. Right now, he’s tilling a strip where the fence used to be so I can plant a vegetable garden. He’s shirtless, tanned, and his pecs are shiny with sweat. I squeeze my thighs tight. My pussy’s still sore from this morning, but I could go again. I really want the garden, though. I want to grow tomatoes and basil and make pasta sauce from scratch. Forty loves spaghetti.

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