Southern Comfort (Southern 2)

We walk to the house and up the steps. “I don’t think a girl has ever been invited into the office for drinks,” Savannah says, and when we get to the closed door, she puts her hand up to knock, and then she opens it and walks in.

The minute I step foot inside, I know something is off. I look around the office, and I spot Casey and Jacob standing there in front of the desk but neither of them is moving. The look of pure anguish is all over Jacob’s face. But nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for the look on Beau’s face.

He has tears running down his face, and the pain in his eyes is so transparent that you feel it in your soul. The white paper in his hand crinkles as his body shakes. He looks at us standing in the door, and then he looks straight at Savannah.

“Tell me,” he says almost in a whisper, then looks down at the paper in his hand. “Tell me that my brother is not the father of your son.”

Epilogue One

Casey

One Year Later

“But why?” she moans as she comes out of the bedroom, and I look over at her. She is wearing white jeans and one of my T-shirts, her feet bare, her face free of makeup. “I thought we were going to stay in tonight, and you know …”

“It’s our anniversary,” I remind her, shaking my head and also wondering why I’m surprised that she would opt to stay in rather than go out on the town. I waited every single day for her to tell me that she was done with the country and wanted to move to the city. But as the days turned into weeks and then the weeks into months, she just got more and more settled.

The house that I built is now a home with her touches in every single room. The throw pillows on the couch along with the big throw blanket that we cuddle under. The pictures of the family all over the fridge. The fresh flowers in the middle of the island. The pictures of us all around the house, whether it’s on the side tables or hanging on the walls. It shows that this is our home. “But.” She looks at me. “I cooked for you.” I look at her, and my eyebrows pinch together. She has been trying to learn the whole time. My mother by her side each and every time, but no matter what she did, she usually burnt it. “Okay, fine, I tried, and well, your mother made an extra one.” I laugh now and walk to her.

“How am I supposed to wine and dine you if you won’t let me?” I take her in my arms, and in a second, she has her legs wrapped around me.

She clings to me like a monkey, burrowing her face into my neck. “I don’t want to be wined and dined,” she whispers. “I want to be home and naked.”

“I can help you with that,” I say, carrying her into our room. She starts to kiss my neck, and my cock is already ready to play. Every single time I’m with her, it’s like the first time. Every single time that I think it can’t get better, it does. Even when I took her to Mexico and had her every single hour we were there. The private house on the beach. I rented our own oasis, and I didn’t think we would top that. “You really are going to talk me out of going out tonight.”

She unclings herself from me and stands in front of me. Peeling off her shirt, she shows me a new bra that I’ve never seen before. Trust me, I know. I’ve had to replace more than my share, that and her flimsy panties. “I was hoping that.” She winks at me, and then she unbuttons her jeans, and I see that she has the matching panties.

I pick up my hand. “Wait,” I say, and she stops mid-zip. “Jesus, I can’t believe you’re making me do this here,” I say. Turning around and walking to my closet, I find the suit jacket I was going to wear tonight and grab the square box. I look around the closet at our stuff. When I walk back into the room, she is still there in the middle of the room. “We are going to have to make up a story.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” she asks, confused. Then I get down on one knee, and it all clicks into place. I wait for it, and there it is. My girl has her hand on her mouth, and tears already running down her face.

“Olivia,” I start to say. “Darlin’.” I see her smile. “I never thought that this moment would come, yet after being with you for this long, I wonder why I didn’t do it sooner.” My own tears come now. “One year ago, I asked you to stay and make a home with me. I promised to help you plant roots. I held my breath the whole time, waiting for your answer. You didn’t just help me make a home, but you also became my home.”