Home to You

Haven’s moans of pleasure remind me of the noises she made Monday night. “Those were the best nights. Until the mosquitos,” she adds. Those damn pesky bugs always loved her sweet skin, almost as much as I did.

Do.

“Do you want me to pick you up or would you like to meet at my place?”

“How about I just come to your house. That way, my car is there in the morning.” She blushes and looks around before adding, “Well, I’m assuming I’m still going to be there in the morning.”

I pin her with a smoldering look. “Sweetheart, if I had my way, you’d never leave. Not my arms and certainly not my bed.”

Haven leans against my shoulder and exhales. “I wish things would have been different for us, Bash. I wish I had stayed here. With you.”

Everything around us just fades away when I turn and pull her into my arms. “Don’t say that, Have. As badly as it hurt when you went to New York, that’s who you were at the time and what you needed. You became a successful, brilliant dancer. You followed your dream, and you couldn’t have done that here. Plus, there’s Chloe. Our life together may have been different, but I wouldn’t have her if you’d have stayed. So, don’t regret your past, sweetheart. Appreciate it for what it taught you, but always keep your eyes forward on the future.”

“On you?” she whispers, and my heart practically jumps out of my chest.

“Yeah, on me. And Chloe. And your parents, who are here. And the dance studio in town with the little ballerinas who look up to you with stars in their eyes. Just keep moving forward,” I tell her, pulling her into my arms and kissing her forehead.

“Daddy, look! Eggs from the chickens!” Chloe bellows as she runs our way. One of the chickens runs in front of her and trips up her little legs. When she stumbles, she drops the egg in her hand, and it breaks. “No!” She instantly starts to cry for the broken egg.

Before I can move to the gate, Haven’s already there, releasing the latch and making her way to my daughter. Haven crouches down and takes Chloe into her arms and holds her tight. When she pulls back, she wipes the tears away and whispers, “It’s okay, Chloe. Accidents happen, especially with eggs. I dropped one just the other day, and when I was younger, I’d drop at least one or two a week.”

Chloe sniffles and wipes at stray tears. “But, then the chickens won’t grow more chickens.”

“These aren’t going to the incubator, honey. These are eggs we eat for breakfast.”

Chloe seems to be thinking awfully hard for a few seconds before adding, “Can I take some eggs for breakfast?”

Haven smiles. “Of course. Would you like to pick out twelve to put in your own carton?”

Chloe nods and grins, the sadness of dropping an egg long forgotten. “Can I take them to Mommy’s?”

“Sure can. How about you pick out twelve for your mommy’s house and twelve for your daddy’s house?”

“Yes!”

“Come on, sweet girl,” Barb says, reaching her hand for Chloe to take. “We’ll go take all these eggs into the house and pick the ones you want to take home.”

My daughter practically darts for the house—Barb and the big basket of eggs hot on her heels.

“Thank you for this. I’ll pay for the two dozen eggs,” I insist, but Haven just tsks.

“Like Mom will let you pay for any eggs.”

“Well, I don’t mind. I didn’t bring her out here to take the product for free.”

Haven waves me off dismissively. “Mom knows that.” She glances around and reaches for my hand. “Wanna go for a short walk?”

I’m already grinning as I take her hand. “I’d go anywhere with you, Have. Anywhere.”

“Right this way,” the hostess says, smiling widely as she leads Haven and me to a table for two in the back. When she turns around, I can feel her eyes on me, but I ignore it.

“Thank you,” my date coos, clearly noticing the hostess’s appreciative glance my way, but just grins in reply. While I’m pulling out her chair, my hand brushing against her lower back, the contact makes my blood start a southbound trip below my belt.

I nod to the hostess, who sets two menus down on the table before sauntering off to return to the front of the restaurant.

“God, this place hasn’t changed a bit,” Haven says as she deposits her napkin in her lap.

“Oliver’s granddaughter took over but kept the menu exactly the same. She offers a few weekend specials, but all the staples her grandfather created are still here. Including the hash brown croquettes,” I reply, glancing down at my menu.

“I’m having a steak,” Haven declares without so much as glancing at her menu. She gives me a far-off grin as she asks rhetorically, “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had steak?”