Page 109 of When Sky Breaks
I laugh and dive into my food, sighing once it hits my stomach. “This is good.”
“Just a sandwich. Figured I could handle that.” He winks, and it sends butterflies through my chest.
I want to eat sandwiches with August Moore for the rest of my life. In fact, I want to do everything with him until the end of time. Make sandwiches, read books, go on picnics. Everything.
“I love you,” I blurt out, the words freely leaving my body. He just looks so cute being domestic—I can’thelp but say it.
Blinking, he sets his sandwich down. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that.”
“Not even when we’re old and wrinkly?” I grin.
“If I haven’t turned off my hearing aids at that point, then no.” He chuckles and flicks my hand as I steal a chip off his plate.
This. This is the feeling I always want to have with him. No pretenses, no shame, no regrets, just happy everyday moments.
I think this time I’ll get my wish.
* * *
Once the sun sets, I finally peel myself away from August and head home.
“You sound like you’ve had a cold,” Phoebe says as soon as she answers and hears me speak.
I put her on speakerphone while I reverse out of August’s driveway. He stands on the porch, barefoot, with Winter sitting pretty next to him.
A stupid grin splits my face. “Yeah, I was down for a few days last week. Still have some drainage. Went and stayed at August’s house so I wouldn’t infect anyone.”
“Wait. You stayed at his house?”
“Yep. It was nice to sleep it off and not feel bad about getting Foster sick.” I can only imagine the expression on her face, so I attempt to keep the conversation light.
“So, what, did you like call him up and he came and rescued you?” She sounds incredulous, which is easy for Phoebe to do.
“That was Foster.” I laugh, turning onto a stretch of road, narrowly missing a pothole full of rainwater. “He’s playing matchmaker.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that for?” I scrunch my brows once I stop at a light. The car next to me has its radio volume up so loud the bass rattles my brain.
“Nothing. Just making sure everything is all good.”
“Everything is perfect. Very good, in fact.” I bite my lip to contain how good it really is.
“You slept with him.”
“What makes you say that?” I play the innocent card.
“Your voice. It got all breathy and stuff. You caved.”
Damn her. She picks up on everything.
“There was no caving. August and I have had some long talks, and he’s here to stay. He slept for two nights on my couch to take care of Foster. His mom is living here again. His…uh dad died recently. And he’s been donating a substantial amount of his photography royalties for the past three years to The Magnolia Place. Oh, and he’s actually friends with Foster, doing odd jobs around the house for him.” I spill all that in a rush in case she only hears what she wants to hear.
Her pause is long. “Wow. That’s…that’s a lot. Um, where do I even start?”
I huff out a laugh. “How about with the facts? You’re good with those. He’s been silently groveling for the last few years, and he didn’t even know I’d be back to see it.”
“Yeah, I’d say so. I gotta hand it to Gus Gus,” she sighs. “He’s redeemed himself.”