“Whoa. Slow down there, sunshine.” Ajax giggled. “You’re killing the mood with that death talk.”
“Well, I am unfailingly dark and serious.”
“I noticed that, but perhaps I can help. I’m known for my ebullience.”
Dmytro pretended to scoff. “For your soup? Isn’t that soup?”
“That’s bouillon.” Ajax waved a hand in front of his face. “Ebullience is a different word. Er… I think it’s a word.”
“So? Tell me what it means”—Dmytro bit his lip—“if you know so much.”
“I do know what it means.” He huffed. “Just because you don’t.”
“Right.” Dmytro itched to put his fingers through Ajax’s soft curls. Since they were all alone and Ajax loved him, he indulged himself.
“Ibelieveit means exuberance, but I’ll look it up.” Ajax got out his phone, read the definition, and fell onto Dmytro’s chest with a thud. “Oh no.”
“Oof.” Dmytro rubbed a sore spot. “What?”
“One of the synonyms of ebullience isbuoyancy. Oh, ha. That’s rich. Good thing, though, huh?”
“Oh yes.” He cupped Ajax’s jaw and met his gaze before bringing him in for another searing kiss. “You, my dearest love,float. And it turns out that’s a very good thing.”
EPILOGUE
Ajax
Almost every detailof the new house was finished, but Ajax still ran from one room to the next, ticking off the items on his checklist. Accessible suite with a separate entrance. Flooring done. Paint completed. Towels and toiletries, check. Pottery Barn Kids raid successful—pink for Penelope and purple for Sasha. Did their rooms resemble sparkly butterfly sanctuaries? Yes.
Check.
Had he ordered enough food for the newly remodeled kitchen? Was there enough closet space? Did Liv’s private guest house sparkle inside and out?
Check, check, and check.
Turned out his dream bungalow would never be big enough, so he’d created his own McMansion from a run-down 70s monstrosity on the bluffs overlooking St. Nacho’s.
Now he waited anxiously for his guests.
Grandpa tied flies at his desk in the family room while Ajax poured himself another cup of coffee. Ajax had refilled his favoriteRick and Mortymug too many times to count.
“You trying to set a record?” Grandpa asked. “You’re not nervous, are you?”
“Of course I’m not.” Except… he was. He really was.
What if Liv decided St. Nacho’s was too far from the city, or the girls didn’t want to leave their schoolmates behind, even for the summer?
What if Dmytro had changed his mind and he no longer wanted to bring all the separate pieces of their lives together for a few months under the same roof to see how things would work out between them? They’d spent time together over the previous year, dating, testing things out between them. They’d spent romantic weekends in Napa wine country and taken the girls to Disneyland. Now that the house was finished, Dmytro had decided to bring his family down for the summer to see how they worked together.
If they liked being together as a family…
If this thing between them was real… They planned to make it permanent.
The doorbell rang.
Grandpa’s herd of Bichon Frises—Rachel, Monica, and Phoebe—barked madly around their ankles.
“I’ll get the mutton.” Grandpa winked, scooping them up and dropping them into the large, padded basket on the front of his scooter. “You go answer that.”
