Page 205 of Spicy Ever After
“You don’t look happy to see me.” Hattie’s voice cuts through my brother’s, my money woes, and my beating heart.
When I see her, electricity zings through me from head to toe. I drop my phone. I don’t fucking care. She’s still a good four feet away, looking unsure.
Was she always this beautiful? Even wearing that worried look?
God, she’s?—
“Hattie.” I open my arms and take a step toward her just as she rushes to me. We collide. I wrap her in my arms and squeeze her so damn tight as all things Hattie rush back to me.
Her apricot smell.
The tickle of her hair on my jaw.
The soft crush of her body against my chest.
Love detonates in my heart and—I swear—it’s almost as lethal as a bomb. She could blow me to bits, and every piece of me would be hers.
This woman owns me. She owns me. I am completely at her mercy.
“OH GOD,” she nearly yells. “I MISSED YOU SO MUCH I THOUGHT I’D DIE OF IT. I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO EVER STOP HUGGING YOU!”
The stream of her fellow passengers has to part around us. We’re practically blocking the escalators. People are watching. One or two of them might even have their phones out.
I don’t care.
I tuck my face into the crook of her neck and breathe in my Hattie.
“You smell so fucking good.” My throat is so tight, it comes out a growl. “I missed you so much, it was like organ failure.”
Then I’m shaking my head and pulling away because I have to make her understand. “You can’t—” I only manage the two words when she grabs my collar and yanks me back into the vice of her hug.
And that’s fine. That’s just fine with me. I’ll speak the words I need her to hear into her hair.
“You can’t leave like that—no word, no warning—ever again.” I squeeze her hard. “Never again. Do you understand me?”
I feel her nod, but all I hear is the wet stifling of sobs, so I just hold her. I don’t know how long we stand there, holding on for dear life, but when she relaxes her grip, I relax mine, and neither of us lets go.
When we make room to pull back and look at each other, Hattie isn’t the only one with wet lashes.
She sniffles. “I knew I was going to cry. I came prepared.” She reaches into the pocket of the jacket she’s wearing and pulls out a handkerchief. For something so old fashioned, it looks brand new. Crisp linen with… wait a minute…
“A-are those sweet potatoes?”
She laughs wetly. “They are.”
I yank the hankie from her grip and study the delicate needlework. “Did you do this?”
She snorts, grabs the linen back, and wipes her eyes. “No. But it’s custom made. I had it done at Viv Couture. One of the sewists there does amazing embroidery. I got a set of five. One for you, your dad, your brother, his husband, and me.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pristine square before handing it over to me.
I swallow laughter like a shot of Jack. I have no idea what Viv Couture is. All I know is that she came home with a one-of-a-kind gift for me and my family.
I don’t care that it’s a handkerchief and I’ve never carried one in my life. No one’s ever done anything like that for me. I’ll keep it in my pocket until the day I die. Hell, I wanna be buried with it.
Even though she’s said she missed me and I believe her, I like holding the proof in my hand.
“I love it. Pop is going to like his too.”
