63. Arnaz
ARNAZ
TWO WEEKS LATER
“ By Any Stretch of the Imagination ”
Of those empty years, those dreams I dared not dream.
“ F uck,” I curse as the knife slices through my finger.
“Ouch,” Salem says from the other side of the island. He grabs a paper towel, then reaches over and wraps my finger up. “Add pressure.”
“Add pressure,” I mock with a sneer. “Where are the bandages again?”
“Ask nicely, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me now, dickhead.”
He snickers. “You’re still mad?”
“Don’t put this on me. You’re the one who didn’t get enough sleep and woke up grumpy this morning.”
“I didn’t get enough sleep because someone’s flight was delayed, and they got in super late and made mad noise climbing into bed.”
I scoff and try to pull my hand back, but he doesn’t release it. “Let me go before I bleed on the peppers.”
He continues applying pressure.
“And how is it my fault that Simba was excited to see me and almost made me bust my ass trying to get to the bathroom?” I argue.
“Oh, so now it’s your fault.” He stares down at Simba, who turns his head away from us. “We’re making the kid sad.” He raises my finger to his lips and kisses it. “The bandages are there in the drawer on the right.” He releases his hold.
I yank open the drawer. Two brand-new boxes of bandages sit in the center.
Not just any bandages, though.
“Baby,” I breathe out.
“Hmm?” He bends down to peer inside the oven.
I pick up one of the boxes.
“I just called you a dickhead.” I groan.
He smirks as I come around the island and back him against the fridge. “That wasn’t nice, was it?”
“I love you,” I whisper, looking him in the eyes.
Our lips press together, and I kiss him the way I’ve been fighting the urge to do all day.
“Sweet mercy. Not again,” Denzel complains, making us laugh.
“We’re clothed, bro,” Salem replies.
We didn’t realize he was home a few weeks back when I was spread-eagled on the couch, getting pumped deep.
The guy’s too quiet. I’ve never heard him enter a room. I know he’s counting the days until his renovated condo in Ana?s’s building is ready.
I brush a quick kiss against Salem’s lips. “I missed you this morning.” He was already out of bed by the time I woke up, in full-on grump mode.
“Yeah?” He grabs my ass. “We’ll kick everyone out early.”
“Oooh. Tommy, bring the popcorn,” Kieran, Sid’s cousin, yells.
Denzel groans, covering his eyes and groping the air until he reaches the beer in the cooler, and then he scurries out.
“Last Christmas”—Kieran snickers as I turn and lean against Salem’s chest—“Tommy went downstairs to get me a snack and found Ty getting cannonballed.”
“In an elf onesie,” Tommy adds quietly, handing Kieran the bowl of popcorn.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Sid calls out from the living room.
“Yeah, it was,” Ty yells for us to hear. “He fell into the Christmas tree.”
We burst out laughing.