Page 75 of Second Swing
Just Clint and me.
Clinton traces an unknown pattern on my back, and I make lazy lines along his chest, enjoying the feel of him all over me. I exhale against his heated skin, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel at peace. It's not the kind you seek out when you need a quiet place, but the sensation you finally feel when you are exactly where you’re meant to be.
Kissing the top of my head, he says, “Come on, let's get cleaned up and order pizza.” Before I can climb off of him, he stands, lifting me into the air.
I giggle. “You don’t even know where you’re going. Just put me down,you caveman.”
He hums before he teases me, “I like the sound of being your caveman, Dove. Now give me some directions because I’m not putting you down until I have no other choice.”
“Down the hall, second door on the right.” I laugh, laying my head on his shoulder.
When we make it to the bathroom, he finally lets me down, and I turn the shower on. I step under the hot spray of water, and Clint joins me, cleaning me up just like he said he would before dirtying me all over again. The water is cool by the time we get out. He finds his pants still on the floor in the living room and makes a call to a local pizzeria.
When I finally make it out of my room and back to Clint, I find Waffles in his lap and our clothes neatly folded in the chair next to them. My heart swells at seeing my boys bundled up together.My boys.
“Pizza should be here soon, baby. I made some tea while you were drying off. Come sit with us.”
“You know, he doesn't like men,” I reply, cozying up next to them.
Clint puffs his chest, and I smirk. “Well, he seems to like me just fine,” he says as he scratches Waffles under his chin. The fluff ball purrs loudly, and I rub his soft fur and zone out watching what Clint has on TV—a PGA tournament, of course.
The doorbell rings, and Clinton is up out of his seat, answering the door for the pizza. I watch as he heads straight to the kitchen, like he’s always been here, like he’s comfortable. With two cups of sweet tea and a plate piled with pizza, he walks back over to where I’m sitting on the couch.
“I have one of my favorite movies ready to go, so let’s do this.” He snuggles in next to me, and I take a huge bite of pizza. “Shit, shit, shit.” The cheese is hot and burns the roof of my mouth, but it’s too good toput down.
“You know, Dove, hot pizza is meant to be blown on first so you don’t burn that pretty mouth of yours.” His words send tingles right to my core. Damn him—I fucking love it.
The movie begins to play. It's an action-packed comedy of two cops trying to save this woman they barely know. Again, a favorite of mine. “I’ve watched this movie so many times, I can recite the lines.”
“It's one of my favs too. Selene and I used to watch it all the time,” he says, and it makes me smile. I love that we share this small detail.
We spend the rest of the night cuddling on the couch and making sure Waffles doesn't steal any pepperoni. We play cards, and he tries to teach me how to maintain a poker face, which is impossible because my face can be read from a mile away. It's the absolute best night I’ve had in a long time, and it's because of him.
37
Lou:It’s Christmas on the course—imagine Santa trying to manage this level of dysfunction.
Chuck:Holiday cheer mixed with drama. I wrote it on my Christmas list!
Lou:Who knew the season could be this….unruly?
Chuck:It’s the perfect storm of festivity and fuckery. Now hush and pass me the nog.
The snow crunches under my boots. We woke up to a white Christmas Eve this morning. I’m reminded of how glad I am to be home.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Paloma fidgets next to me. “I don't want to intrude on your parents' traditions.”
“These aren't just their traditions, they're mine too—which means you are always welcome to be a part of them,” I tell her, and I mean it. I know she’s nervous, but my parents can't wait to meet her.
“Are you sure they're awake?” she asks, pulling at the shirt she’s wearing.
I turn to her, stopping our walk up the driveway before we make it to the stairs. “My parents are early risers and always make Christmas Eve breakfast. We don’t have to go inside, Dove. We canturn around right now.”
“No. No, I want to meet them. I’m just nervous they won’t like me,” she says as she nibbles at the inside of her cheek.
“They are going toloveyou. Come on, Dove.” Intertwining our fingers, I give her a quick kiss on the forehead and start up the path to my parents’ porch.
The yard may have a dusting of snow, but from the looks of it, Dad must have swept the steps off this morning and salted the driveway; they’re clear for guests. No matter how old he gets, he always finds the time to maintain his yard. My hand connects with the door a couple times before my mom's bright smile fills my sight. I open my arms to give her a hug, but she darts past me and envelops Paloma in a hug. The hug I swore was meant for me, and the thought of it warms me.
