Epilogue
Present Day
My feet hit the floor and I rubbed my eyes. The sun was coming up and my wife was missing.
I checked her side of the bed.
She hadn’t slept there.
It was sprinkling outside and there was a chill in the air. Early Spring in North Carolina meant it wouldn’t warm up until closer to noon.
I grabbed her favorite sweater and headed downstairs to make her coffee. Tripping over Toby, Drew’s dog we were pet sitting while he and James were visiting Guatemala with their daughter, I apologized and scratched behind his ears.
“Sorry, big guy,” I said in jest, because he was the size of a small house cat.
He followed me, prancing along excitedly until I opened the door to head out to Emersyn’s studio.
It was drizzling out, just enough to change the Tobster’s mind. He retreated back toward the den.
“Wuss,” I called after him, hoping he wouldn’t piss in my shoes again.
I closed the door, pulling my rain coat over head to cover her travel mug as well as myself.
Music was playing softly when I entered, something sweet and classical. A lullaby. I could always tells her mood, or the mood of what she was working on, by the genre of music playing. Must be something new.
She was leaning over when I came up beside her. “Good morning, Mrs. Singleton,” I greeted her because, damn, that never got old. We’d been married two years and I still couldn’t get over how much I loved her having my name.
She stood abruptly, spinning and blocking my view of her latest project. I’d learned not to take it personal. Artists had their quirks about when they were ready for their work to be seen and I respected that.
It was the same reason I closed my practices for the Hurricanes. A work in progress was private.
“Good morning, Mr. Singleton,” she returned, her hair in a messy bun, dried clay on her delicate fingers.
I handed her the coffee. She accepted it eagerly.
“Mmm, thank you, baby. Best. Husband. Ever.” She sipped it quickly, then set the mug aside.
“Did you get any sleep?” I let my thumb trace beneath her eyes. She was gorgeous always, but she’d been looking extra exhausted lately.
“I’ll nap later,” she said. “I have something to show you.”
I pressed my morning erection against her backside. “What a coincidence. I have something to show you, too.”
She giggled like a school girl, which turned me on even harder since she was actually a student in my class at one time.
“Me first.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement and what looked like nervousness. As talented as she was, having recently opened her own gallery in Raleigh, she still got anxious as if every piece was her first. “Then you can show me what you brought to show and tell this morning.”
“Hmm,” I murmured against her hair, placing her hand between my legs. “How about show and touch?”
“Mmhmm,” she moaned. I felt her knees weaken as her body pressed against mine. Kissing the nape of her neck, I caught a glimpse of her sculpture on the table by accident.
While her pieces were largely abstract, I could still make out her intent. It was a large nest with two birds inside. They were looking down at something I couldn’t see.
“You’re peeking,” she mumbled in her weakened state.
I sucked the sensitive skin just below her ear. “Not me.”
She whirled around in my arms and kissed me on the mouth, tasting of coffee. “You can look now.”
