Things have been good since our talk behind the bakery—better than good—and I don’t want to rock the boat.
We had a night to remember camping out on my aunt’s property with that blindfold and a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs and have spent every night I wasn’t working together since.
We’ve watched old action movies, made caramel popcorn, and drizzled the leftover caramel sauce all over each other before licking it off. We’ve crept up to the roof of the bakery with our sleeping bags and slept out under the stars, waking to make love as the sky turned a rosy pink the same color as Maddie’s lips.
We even caught a movie at the newly reopened drive-in in Happy Cat, making out in the back seat during a midnight showing of Grease like we were in high school.
Almost every night, the “L” word threatens to escape again, but never so much as when Naomi shifts Noelle into Maddie’s arms and we move to stand together beside the priest, next to the font of water sparkling in the late afternoon light.
Now, I experience a rush of feeling unlike anything I’ve felt before, almost as if God himself is giving me a kick in the ass, telling me to grab onto this woman and never let her go.
“If you’ll put your right hand on the baby, Jamison, we’ll begin,” Father Seamus says with a smile before turning to face the small group of family and friends who’ve gathered for the ceremony.
I shift closer to Maddie, slipping my hand around her to rest gently on the baby’s head, surprised to find my throat tight with emotion. I was honored when Jake asked me to be his daughter’s godfather, but I never thought I’d be fighting the urge to start sniffling right along with Maddie.
Thankfully, Father Seamus begins the ceremony by asking Jake and Naomi for an official pronouncement of the baby’s name and then offering blessings, giving me a chance to pull myself together.
By the time the priest finishes reading a few passages he’s prepared and turns back to Maddie and me, I’m able to promise to help Noelle on her spiritual journey with a steady voice.
Maddie promises the same, and Noelle’s head is sprinkled with holy water and her forehead traced with the sign of the cross—causing the baby to open sleepy blue eyes and snuffle with disapproval before shoving her fist into her mouth and falling back asleep—and the deed is done.
“Sleepy girl,” Maddie coos as she delivers Noelle back into Naomi’s arms.
“She is.” Naomi beams down at her daughter. “She missed her second nap today while we were over at Mom and Dad’s.”
“But we’ll make sure she gets her naps in when she’s staying with us,” Naomi’s mother says, appearing at her daughter’s elbow to smile down at her grandbaby.
Mrs. Whitehouse is a solid woman a little shorter than Maddie, with graying brown hair tamed into tight curls close to her head and blue eyes framed with bursts of smile lines. She’s soft-spoken and not the most demonstrative person, but she had a soft spot for my brother and me when we were growing up.
She always made us cakes on our birthdays and checked in with us at church picnics. And she didn’t even scold me too harshly when I slipped a slug down her daughter’s dress or broke one of her beach umbrellas using it as a jousting pole.
As I got older and more focused on my career, I fell out of touch with both Mr. and Mrs. Whitehouse—except for a hello now and then when we run into each other around town—but I’m holding out hope that they’ll think I’m good enough for their daughter. I want to make a good second impression on Maddie’s parents.
Yes, Maddie and I have only been dating a short time, but in my unguarded moments, I’m starting to hope we all might end up being even closer than we used to be.
“Want to drop my car off at the bakery and drive to my parents’ together?” Maddie asks as Naomi and her mom start toward the rear of the church, following the family and friends already making their way to the parking lot.
I arch a brow. “Does that mean we’re coming out of the closet?”
“Ha ha.” She grins. “No. It means Mick is making whiskey sours before dinner, and I would like to have a few and not drive. Is that acceptable?”
“Of course.” I hum beneath my breath as I start up the aisle beside her, fighting the urge to put my arm around her waist. “Anything that involves you and whiskey is on my list of favorite things.”
She laughs. “Yeah, well, I’ll do my best to behave. My parents get nervous when there are non-family-members around to observe my shenanigans. They don’t want me to let my hair down too much.”