Page 91 of The Road to Home Base
I nodded. “About the foundation?”
He snickered. “Hey, I told you I need to focus on a new business now. Don’t you worry, though.”
It was my turn to chuckle. “How could I?” I squeezed his hand and together we drove home.
?
Later that afternoon, I started a homemade braciole recipe and let it simmer on the back burner for hours. I bought my favorite bottle of Sangiovese wine and decanted it just before dinner was ready. Technically, Alex shouldn’t drink while on his pain meds, but we both agreed a single glass wouldn’t hurt. He had the strength to sit with me at the kitchen island and, when he tried to help clean up, I exiled him to the living room and his nest ofcushions and pillows.
I had an evening call with my agent and Joe, which I took in the office. I only had a few days left of my family medical leave. The Riders were doing well in postseason and we needed to figure out my entry point at the next game. I still hesitated at leaving Alex alone, but Joe assured me he’d be by as often as possible to help out. Even my mother offered to come up and spend the night. Ostensibly, both Alex and I had scheduled my cousin Elena to come up under the pretense of helping Alex with recovery, since she was a physical therapist. In reality, we designed Devin to be there to connect the two. That was days away, though.
By the time I finished my call, Alex was quietly snoring on the couch while an ’80s adventure movie played on the television. I tiptoed to the couch and used my phone to dim the lighting, then lowered the volume of the movie. I had a moment to take it in. Alex, nestled in his mound of pillows with a blanket thrown over his legs. Head leaning back, slightly turned, mouth partially open. As tired as he was, he still cut a handsome image.
I took a careful seat next to him and he stirred. “Shh, shh,” I whispered. His eyes opened, unfocused from the haze of pain meds, then sharpened when he found mine.
A sleepy, drug-addled smile. “Hey, you,” he said, then frowned. “I don’t like these meds.”
I chuckled and sank lower in the couch so that we could be eye to eye. “Doesn’t look like it to me.”
He craned a hand forward to caress my cheek. “I don’t like how they, you know,inhibitthings.”
I couldn’t help but laugh again. “It’s okay. I can wait. You’ll be off them soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he said sleepily, then yawned. “Can we go to bed?”
I popped to my feet. “Absolutely.”
He made decent time getting up and walking down the hall. We brushed our teeth side by side. I pretended to get handsy with him, letting my fingers roam in all the right places. He batted me away as best he could and I let each hit land so he could win something. Like the last two nights, he was able to get into bed without my help, but still needed a furniture store worth of pillows to stay in a certain position for optimal sleep. No cuddling, unfortunately, but we could hold each other’s hands like the new lovers that we were.
“All set?” I asked him.
Another face-splitting yawn. “Yep.”
I scooted as close as possible to his barrier of pillows. Turned on my side. Put a delicate hand on his face and let my thumb trace his cheekbone. “Had a good day?”
“Sure did. You?”
“Every day with you is a good day.”
He made a sound. Corny, I know, but I could tell he appreciated it. Alex blew me a kiss. “Such a cheeseball.”
I attempted to shrug despite my position. “What can I say? You make me wanna say silly things.”
Alex’s face softened. “I can’t wait,” he said. His eyes drooped closed as sleep took hold.
“For what?”
“To build our future.” His words came out as a whisper but carried the weight of so much more.
I leaned in and kissed his forehead.Me, too.
Epilogue
ATRUNK’SWORTHof suitcases clogged the mudroom of our Rhode Island house. Rome wasn’t super helpful on detailing December weather in Sicily. “Y’know. Pants, I guess. No winter stuff.” Not exactly pinpointing a month-long wardrobe, so I decided to pack more than I needed.
Rome came lumbering inside from the garage through the mudroom. He paused when his eyes identified the outlier in the group of suitcases. He pointed to the suspect, a meager black bag on four wheels. Unassuming. Hidden. But traitorous in numbers.
“What’s that?” Rome asked. “Is thatanotherbag?”
