99. Sarah #2
I tore off the wrapping paper. A gilded frame surrounded the photo Timothy had taken of us at Viola’s wedding reception.
In the image, George smiled like a mildly deranged cherub while I scowled like the world’s biggest grump.
Laughter burst from me. “It’s like no picture I’ve ever seen displayed anywhere. ”
“We’re too much fun for stuffy pictures. It’s part of our story. Real and imperfect and uniquely us.” He held out a hand for me to shake. “Author the story with me?”
“Deal.” I clasped his hand. My heart did a little flip at the thought of writing a whole lifetime with George.
He set the frame and the flower on a side table. “Come on, Goldie, we’re only getting started.” George tucked my hand through his arm and led me outside. “The second stop is a place of truth. Truth, you’ll recall, is number two.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Where shall we go, do you think?”
“Give me a hint.”
He pulled me around the corner of the house. “We’re off to a place where we spoke honestly and openly. A place where our friendship grew into something deeper.”
We crunched arm in arm along the gravel path. The shade between our houses wrapped around us. A shiver ran through me—more excitement than chill. George shifted closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “A place where I first put my arm around you.” He paused and raised a teasing eyebrow at me.
“I remember.” I hurried forward, tugging him along, and veered into my backyard. I glimpsed a flash of pink on the bench by the laurel. Another peony sat atop a large folded blanket. George tucked the blanket around us in a cozy cocoon.
“First things first.” His dimple appeared, and then his lips met mine in a long kiss that left me wobbly. Good thing we were sitting.
I sighed. “Mmm. First? Thought this was the second thing.”
His breath tickled my ear. “What’s this? You say you want a second kiss.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “I won’t stop you.”
That was all the invitation he needed. His second kiss left me toasty and flushed and pleasantly undone. “I hope you don’t expect me to walk anywhere,” I murmured. “I am positively unsteady.”
“Bit dizzy myself, Goldie.” He traced a finger along my brow. “But stop distracting me. Number two is truth.”
His voice softened. “You spoke truth to me the day of Mrs. Newman’s funeral. I’m not to blame for Mother’s death. And finally, I believe it in my heart.”
“Wise heart.” I rested my hand on his chest.
“It was picturing our future that changed me,” he said quietly.
“I imagined an adorable eight-year-old with your hair and my eyes. And I couldn’t bear the thought of them carrying the same burden of guilt I forced upon myself.
And the truth is,” he whispered, “I love you and you love me and together we can face anything.”
I nuzzled closer, my voice soft against his chest. “Just facts.”
George kissed the top of my head. “Next is number three.”
I sat up. “Chocolate!”
“And where did I first give you chocolate?”
We dashed up the back steps and into my house. Mother clasped her hands together as we rushed past her in the hall.
“A co-conspirator?”
George winked. “A well-orchestrated plan with enthusiastic assistance.”
“If Mipsy appears carrying a peony…”
A pink peony perched atop a small box on our usual settee by the fire. I lifted the lid to find a whole collection of heart-shaped chocolates.
“Pick one,” he said.
I took a bite from the largest piece and pressed the second half into George’s mouth. The chocolate melted on my tongue, rich and velvety. And then we shared a chocolate-sweet kiss.
George brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Decadent and delicious, my dear.”
“More, please.”
He kissed me again.
“I meant more chocolate, lunkhead.”
He laughed, low and warm. “You need to be more specific.”
“You’ve convinced me. More kisses, please.”
A deep rumble vibrated up from George’s chest and moved from his lips to mine as he kissed me thoroughly.
“Not sure I can count after that, Goldie. What number are we on? Forty-two?”
“Um, chocolate. Right?”
“Ah, my vision is clearing.” He blinked dramatically and looked around. “This is where I waited for you to appear in all your splendor and you worked your spells of enchantment on me.”
I bit another chocolate in half to share. “Perhaps chocolate breaks the spell? Like a magic elixir or—” He caught my wrist and closed his mouth around the sweet balanced between my fingers. Hot and slow. Stealing my words and my breath.
George tilted his head and studied me as he swallowed. “Alas, I’m still enchanted… but I seem to remember a different solution in fairy tales. Something about true love’s kiss.” His lips brushed mine, and he caught my lower lip between his. His kiss sent sugary sparkles shooting through me.
He shook his head. “This spell cannot be broken. I will be enchanted forever.” His impish grin returned. “Yet, I’m willing to give kissing another try, just to be?—”
“George,” I said. But I didn’t want him to stop.