I turn off the laptop and let Troy in. It’s obvious from the moment I open the door that Garrett didn’t tell Troy it’s not an emergency. He looks as if he’s gone through hell to get here…or spent the weekend camping. Dirt and sweat are smudged on his handsome face.
“Did Garrett tell you it isn’t an emergency?” I ask, wincing on the inside. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. I just wanted to see you.”
“Yes, he did mention something like that.” Troy pulls me into his arms, and his mouth catches mine.
I sink into his kiss, his arms, his love, and momentarily forget everything else. He smells of sweat and mountains and campfire. He smells of home.
My tongue swirls against his, letting myself feel his love with each stroke of his tongue. Sending him my unspoken love with each flick, each taste of mine. His fingers slip under the hem of my T-shirt, sending a burst of longing through me.Damn. I’ve missed this. Missed him.
After what could be a few minutes or a few hours, we finally come up for air.
“How long can you stay before you’re due back at the cabins?” I don’t want to take him away from his weekend responsibilities.
“About an hour. The men will be showering. Which reminds me.” He grins that sexy one-sided smile that always leaves my body tingling. “I could use a shower. You wanna join me?”
He gives me a once-over as if he’s imagining me naked in the shower, soapsuds sliding down my wet body. The tip of his tongue trails along his lush lower lip, and his gaze lands on my newly tattooed forearm.
He lifts my arm. “You got inked?” His husky voice sounds impressed, and a little surprised, and mostly turned-on.
“I did. For Amelia. It’s her birthday today. I wanted something that symbolizes the day.” And her.
And just like that, Troy’s elated emotions from a moment ago flatline and his eyes narrow. “Is that a good idea? What with you dealing with your brother-in-law and his wife’s decision about you not being part of her life?”
I jerk my arm away. “It’s the perfect idea. I’m not her mother anymore.” The words burn my throat, sear my soul. “But she’ll always be part of me. This way I can make sure she’s always with me.”
I lift the lid on the Picnic & Treats box. “I also got a birthday cake to celebrate the day.”
Troy opens his mouth to say something. I put my finger on his lips, stopping the words before they can form. “I can’t just forget I gave birth to her, any more than Simone can forget she had a daughter. I know that’s hard for you to understand, but that’s the way it is.”
He grunts out a sigh. “I don’t expect you to forget. And you’re right. I don’t understand. But I’m trying to.”
“Good. Then let me do this without you or anyone else judging me.”
“I’m not judging you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt more than you already are.”
“I know, but you need to let me heal in whatever way I can and be there for me. That’s all I’m asking. That, and to share this day with me. I’m not sure I can survive it without you.”
He sweeps his thumb along my cheek, the frustration in his expression melting away. “I can do that. So, why the flowers and shell?”
“The tulip shell was one of Amelia’s favorites. The hydrangea represents love and family. They’re pink because that was her favorite color. And well, I don’t think I need to explain the forget-me-nots.”
Troy chuckles, the warm sound vibrating through me, wrapping my heart in love. “Yeah, that part is self-explanatory. It’s beautiful. Just like Amelia’s mother.” He lightly presses his lips to mine, pulls away, and peers inside the box. “Are you putting birthday candles on the cake?”
“No. Amelia isn’t here to blow them out and make a wish. So, I didn’t see a point in putting candles on the cake. And we don’t need to sing “Happy Birthday” either. But we do get to eat the cake.”
“Shower first?” His eyes go dark, and his mouth curls in the way it always does when he’s thinking about being buried inside me.
Heat burns low in my belly. I slide the tip of my tongue along my lower lip, already thinking about the taste of him, and nod. “Shower first.”
* * *
Our hair is dampwhen we come downstairs forty minutes later, freshly showered and freshly fucked. And then freshly showered again.
I lift the cake from the box. Troy grabs two plates and a knife and places them on the granite countertop.
I take the knife from him and rest the blade on the smooth icing. “Happy Birthday, Amelia. I hope you had a wonderful day, and I hope all your birthday wishes come true.” I cut into the cake and put two slices onto the plates.
I dig my fork into my slice and take a bite of the three-layered, raspberry-and-vanilla cake. It practically dissolves in my mouth, and I moan. “God, this has to be the best birthday cake I’ve ever had.”
