I wouldn’t do it.
I don’t accept it.
Still, I can understand it.
So she’s trying, I’m trying, and I don’t expect twenty-plus years of behavior to change overnight.
Or in a year.
* * *
The sun is gone, and cicadas scree from the trees all around us. Their noise is deafening, but comforting. It’s the sound of my favorite season and memories of staying up late and sleeping until noon.
Coco is tucked away in her bed in Atlantia. She’s given her orders, and she’s sleeping like a princess. We’ll have outgrown our cottage in less than nine months, but I can’t imagine moving our family away from here.
Jackson steps from the bathroom, his dark hair messy, a dimple in his cheek. The lamplight casts shadows along the lines of his body. Ocean-blue eyes blink to mine, and just like always electricity hums in my veins.
He smiles. I smile, and it isn’t long before our lips touch. I climb onto his lap in a straddle as I open my mouth, and his delicious tongue finds mine, heating every part of my body. Large hands cover my stomach, and he bends down to press his mouth against our growing baby.
Our kisses are languid and deep, chasing and tasting.
Salt-water kisses.
Happiness.
Love.
We kiss passionately, deeply, life giving, life saving. We sizzle like fireworks on a hot summer night…
When we touch, it’s not only us, it’s our family, our future.
Jackson Cane is so much more than my first love. He’s more than my teacher, my painter, my passionate lover.
He’s my savior.
My dream come true.
* * *
The End.