“The whole familyisin therapy,” Hendrix says wryly. “So y’all better be doing well.”
“Literally!” I laugh. “Deja wanted her own therapist because she didn’t want to be left out, and of course, we’re in family counseling.”
“It’s all still working, though?” Soledad asks, lifting her perfectly threaded brows delicately. “The arrangement?”
“Yes, but I kinda enjoy folks’ confusion when they realize Josiah lives with us and he and I are together…again, but still not married.”
“Keep doing you,” Hendrix says with a big grin. “You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
It’s true. Our life, our love, didn’t follow the path we thought it would, but that makes it no less true. I often think back to the day we met Ken and Merry, who said they didn’t believe in the institution of marriage, but they believed in each other forever.
The only thing holding us together is our love.
I still believe in marriage, and Josiah does, too. Our love is the only promise binding us, but whenever Josiah is ready to seal it again with vows, so am I. For now, we’ve taken time to grow, to heal, and as Ken and Merry said, to make a life together on our own terms.
I pick up my shot glass of champagne. “Are we gonna do this, or what?”
“We doing it,” Hendrix says.
With a smile as bright as the sequins on her dress, Soledad picks hers up. “Who’s got the toast?”
“I’ve already done one toast tonight,” I say. “You got it, Hen?”
“Ever ready.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to sex that cracks our backs.”
“Oh, Lord,” Soledad murmurs, lips twitching.
“Adventures that snatch our edges,” Hendrix continues, her smile melting into a rare, sweet curve. “And friends that stick like you.”
“You mean stick like glue?” I ask, chuckling.
“I said what I said,” Hendrix booms.
“To friends that stick like you,” we chorus, clinking glasses and knocking back our champagne.
“Well,” I say, slamming my shot glass to the table, “Kassim is at Jamal’s, so Josiah and I have a rare night with no kids. Later for you, bitches. I’m gonna find my man and get outta here while the getting is good.”
Soledad looks over my shoulder, quirking a smile. “Looks like he found you.”
I turn in my seat, and my heart skips that beat reserved specifically for this man, a rhythm that only he has ever inspired. Josiah crosses the roof to us. He’s the kind of handsome that grabs your attention, cloaked in the brand of sex appeal that holds it. His smile is weary, just a tilt to one side of his mouth, but his eyes are alert on me. I don’t have to wonder if he loves me. He tells me every day with his words and with that look fixed on me right now.
“Ladies,” Josiah says when he reaches our table. “What are we drinking to?”
He nods to the bottle of champagne and the incongruous trio of shot glasses.
“New Year shit.” I don’t even check my goofy grin up at him. I haven’t had enough champagne to be drunk, but the thought of a night in the house alone with him is intoxicating in itself.
He tugs me up, sits in my seat, and pulls me back down to his lap. I nuzzle into his neck, lost in the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his hard body, the affection in the hand stroking my thigh, sending tingles even through a thin layer of silk.
“Okay,” Hendrix says, standing. “I think that’s our cue to leave, Sol. They might start screwing on the table right here in front of us.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” I link my fingers with Josiah’s across my stomach and press my back to his chest. “Wouldn’t put it past us.”
The low rumble of Josiah’s chuckle vibrates along my spine; I was joking, but my belly somersaults at the unyielding bone and muscle beneath me. The way this man makes me feel, we may not make it home. Wouldn’t be the first time we made good use of the cellar.
“Guess I’ll live vicariously through you,” Soledad says, a touch of bitterness in her smile. I know it’s not directed toward us, but to her husband. Grasping her hand for a squeeze, I offer a sympathetic smile.