“Ahhh, so it comes with strings,” Stella jokes. “The restaurant.”
“Yes. I insist that the word cakery be used somewhere in the title.” When she just shakes her head at me, I go on, “And I promise to stay out of your hair.”
“What else will you stay out of?”
“If you’re thinking your pants, you’d be wrong about that.” I wrap my arms around Stella’s waist and haul her up against me. Letting out a little squeak, she grasps my face and tugs me down for a heated kiss. “But I promise I would keep things professional. Nothing in the office again with all the staff around.”
“Oh. Only when they’re not around then.”
I dig in my pocket and fish out a set of keys. I jangle them playfully. “We could head over now. Christen the place if you will.”
I expect that Stella will say no or at least offer some half-hearted protests, but she surprises me as she usually always manages to. She lets out a high laugh, takes my hand, and tugs me across the busy street when it’s safe. Then, I unlock the door, shut it behind us, and lock it again.
“It’s empty,” Stella giggles as she looks around.
“That’s never stopped me before. We don’t even need walls or the ground. I can make do with air.”
She gives me a look that is pure fire, hot desire, and joyful amusement. I’m not kidding, and she knows it. “You’re lucky I love you, Haladon Walker.”
“Oh, I know.” I close the distance between us and tilt her face up. “I love you. I adore you. And almost every single day with you has been amazing.”
Her nostrils flare at that. “Oh, just almost?”
“Almost.”
“Well, at least you’re honest.”
“Always. Which is why I’ll tell you that I’ve been thinking about getting another cat to keep Stella Number Two happy.”
“I’ve been thinking that too.” Surprisingly, the old girl is still as robust as ever, even at her advanced age. She’s in very good health, and we expect her to outlive a good portion of us. “We could name her Stella Number Three. SNT for short.”
“SNT has a nice ring to it. Or we could adopt a salamander or two.”
“No!”
Stella is satisfied at my look of pure panic but not with the same perverse pleasure she used to summon up because she loves me too much for that. She does look thoughtful, though. “You know, you never did explain that blind date to me.”
It’s an odd change of subject, and it takes me by surprise. It’s been years since I’ve thought about that. “I…I don’t know what I was doing. I guess I wanted to see if you were receptive to the idea of dating again.”
“No, you sent someone you were sure I wouldn’t like just to make yourself look better.”
“I did not!”
Her bubbly laugher fills up the open space. “You did. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were just being the same crazy Hal Walker you’ve always been. Or it could be that you wanted to test the waters to see how hostile I was to the idea of you. Perhaps it was an okay icebreaker. You couldn’t have known I’d come up with wanting to sell the bakery to you, which resulted in you bribing me into going for a date.”
“It was just a nice thing to do. A business dinner if you will.”
Even thinking about that dinner, the night our lives changed, fills me up with fluttery things inside. “The kiss was kind of nice after if we’re talking about that night. Well, that one and all the others after. You have to admit I have a true talent for putting up with you.”
I graze my lips over her cheek and jaw, and she sighs in contentment. “I do admit it. You have that wonderful gift of being able to go through the toughest of times with a smile.”
Stella reaches around and pinches my bottom. “You. You are just…you’re just wow. That’s all I can say. Or maybe goodness.”
I stop her there before she can find any other choice words to describe me. “I’ll take those ones, and I’ll take them proudly.”
I kiss Stella, my wife, the woman who changed both our worlds by letting us in. The woman who can still sling an elastic band, who can still frustrate me to no end, and who still has a few good jabs that make me burst out in laughter. She changed her mind about me, or maybe she just stopped listening to all the doubts and reasons why it wouldn’t work. She was brave enough to take the gamble.
She threads her fingers through my hair, tugging at my man bun just to mess it up because she loves that. I know I told Sam I wouldn’t cut my hair until I could take care of my mom, but as it happens, I like sporting a man bun, and Stella likes it too, which was the end of the scissor debate. Maybe one day I’ll change my mind. Or I’ll let it grow down to my heels and let our future children reenact fairy tales by climbing it. That has a certain appeal to it.