The Amendment (The Contract 2)

Penny Johnson had rescued me from the streets and gave me everything I needed in life: a home, love, and stability. She became more than my caregiver—she became my friend, protector, teacher, and mother. Losing her to Alzheimer’s had been a crushing blow. I wasn’t sure I would have been able to cope if it hadn’t been for Richard.

In the photo, she was cupping my cheek and talking, her face alive and vibrant in one of her rare clear moments. I missed her every day, but I knew how thrilled she would be to know how happy I was with my life. She had adored Richard and helped make him the man he was today. With her, he found the ability to love another person—to open himself up to feelings he had long denied. It was her passing that brought us together in every sense of the word and helped get us to where we were now.

Thinking of her brought a tear to my eye, and suddenly I needed to see Richard. I pushed off the blankets, and rushed through my morning routine, hurrying down the steps toward the kitchen. I could hear Richard’s low laughter and Gracie’s voice chatting at him. Heather was gurgling, no doubt wrapped in Richard’s arms. He rarely let either of them out of his sight the first couple of days after he had been gone. I walked into the kitchen, smiling at the sight before me. They were all together at the table, bowls of cereal and oatmeal eaten, the banana peel still on the counter from Richard slicing it up on Gracie’s cereal.

They were both on his lap, his arms holding them close. Gracie was talking, Heather sleepy and content, safe and secure in his embrace. He lifted his hazel gaze to mine, the expression in his eyes tender and content.

“Hey, sweetheart. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Gracie slid from his knee and rushed toward me. In her hand was a new stuffed toy Richard had brought her. He always came home with a present for each of us. I held out my arms, scooping her up and raining kisses over her chubby cheeks, making her giggle. I walked to Richard and pressed a long kiss to Heather’s head. Richard’s head fell back on his shoulders.

“What about Daddy?” he asked. “Does he get a kiss too?”

I brushed a kiss to his mouth, whimpering when he caught my neck, pressing my face closer to his and deepening the kiss. He slid his tongue along mine, caressing the skin on my neck, his touch possessive and firm.

I stood slowly, our gazes locked. Gracie giggled.

“Daddy, you kissed Mommy.”

His gaze never left mine. “I did, baby girl. I like to kiss Mommy.”

“Me too?”

Standing, he smirked and blew a raspberry on her cheek. “Yep. You too.”

He tucked Heather into her infant seat, making sure she was strapped in, then lifted Gracie from my arms. He grinned at me. “Daddy needs more coffee to keep up his kissing strength.”

I laughed. Richard could do anything—except cook. His coffee, no matter how often I showed him how to make it, was horrendous. His cooking skills were limited to cereal, pancakes, and toast. Our most used appliance was the Keurig machine. He would be lost without it since he needed caffeine as soon as he woke in the morning and he was always up before me.

I turned to start the coffee, and he tugged me back, kissing me one last time.

“Morning, Katy,” he murmured. “I love being home with you. I missed you.”

I cupped his cheek. “We love having you home. We missed you too.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look sad.”

I lifted my shoulder. “Memories,” I confessed.

He knew on occasion that thinking of Penny made me sad. He always understood. With a gentle smile, he pressed a kiss to my forehead as he slipped a small box into my hand. “For you.”

I flipped open the lid, gasping in delight at the delicate pearl earrings resting against the dark velvet. Small pink, black, and cream beads hanging from white gold threads glinted in the light.

“They’re beautiful.”

“As are you.”

I turned and kissed him, our mouths moving together perfectly. “I love your presents, but I especially love that you’re home. That’s always the best gift.”

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. “Thanks, sweetheart. Home is the best gift for me too.”An hour later, he appeared, dressed in a dark-charcoal suit with a silver-gray tie. He tugged on the sleeves of his white shirt, the embossed RVR on his cuffs peeking out.

“I can’t get these damn cuff links on, Katy,” he grumbled. “This pair never seem to cooperate for me.”

I set down my coffee and slipped the heavy silver disks into the sleeves, fastening them. “There.”

He inspected his sleeves, pleased. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Will you be late tonight?”