He shook his head as he wiped his face, his crooked smile bright and wide. “Bear, that’s probably not going to be a thing. And that’s okay, because our kid is going to be so loved. Just you wait. I’m going to show you, okay? You and me, Bear. We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be so, so good.”
“I’m still probably going to freak out,” I warned him, already getting caught up in his joy. “Probably all the time. And I can’t promise I won’t throw up anytime the kid shits itself. Because—and I am being honest here—poop is gross, and I don’t care who it comes from. And don’t even get me started on vomit. Why the hell do babies leak so much? It’s fucking gross.”
“We’ll get used to it,” he promised me as he kissed my cheeks and my forehead and the tip of my nose.
“That’s not reassuring,” I said, laughing a little hysterically. “At all.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“Um, it matters a lot.”
“And we really need to talk about this whole woman auction thing you’ve got going on in your head, because it actually frightens me just how wrong you are.”
I scowled at him. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never done this before!”
“I love you,” he said again. “I love you so much.”
“Yeah?” I said, arching an eyebrow. “How much?”
Then he growled against my mouth, hands going to my ass as he lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Why don’t I show you?” he said.
“We have to finish packing—”
“I’m gonna pack you—”
“That’s not even sexy. Why the hell is it working? Take off your pants!”
And he kissed me again and again and again.
TWO DAYS later, the house was empty, the keys turned in to the landlord. The sun had barely breached the horizon and we were driving past the house one last time, having stayed in a hotel the night before. Otter pulled the SUV to a stop on the sidewalk in front of the house and put it into park. Kori was blinking blearily in the back seat, her hair pulled back, a frizzy scarf around her neck, even though the morning was already warm. The Kid had told me once before that he thought Kori was a shield for Corey, someone he sought comfort in when he was nervous or scared. I didn’t know if that was quite right, but then I wasn’t an expert on bigenderism. I hoped that even if she was scared or nervous, she was as excited as we were to start something new.
“It was good,” Otter said quietly, staring up at the dark house with the FOR RENT sign on the front lawn. I reached over across the center console to take his hand in mine. “For what it was.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It was. But I think we’re ready. Kid, what do you think?”
He didn’t answer at first, and I turned around to glance back at him. His face was paler than it usually was, and I was reminded of the weeks following the confrontation over his addiction. Some days were harder than others, but I had faith in him. Once we got home, things would be even better. Anna and Creed and JJ. Stephanie and Ian Grant. Alice and Jerry Thompson. And Corey too, at his side.
“Kid?” I asked again.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “I think I’m ready.”
“Home?”
“Home.”
Otter squeezed my hand and pulled away from the house. As we drove on, the sun rising at our backs, I wondered if we’d ever come back here. For some reason, I didn’t think we would. Not like we had before.
I shook my head, chiding myself. Now wasn’t the time for that. We had a long trip ahead of us, and it felt like a first step into something greater.
But as we left our old neighborhood behind, I couldn’t help but feel like we’d forgotten something. It was a feeling scratching at the back of my mind. For the life of me, I couldn’t think what it was.
It was fine, though. It’d come to me if it was important.
“Good?” Otter asked me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other warm in my own.
“Good,” I said, smiling over at him.
And we drove on.