“Of course,” she whispered, studying his face hard, trying to figure out how he had been all happy-go-lucky Hap and now he was so very serious. “It wasn’t a mistake,” she blurted.
“No. It was not.”
He said that firmly, enunciating each word clearly.
She felt her shoulders relax.
“What we did months ago wasn’t a mistake. I thought it was then, I was wrong. But I’ll never think this is a mistake. Not ever, baby,” he said and then finished confusingly, “And I hope you never think it is either.”
“I won’t, Hap,” she whispered. “Not ever. Not ever. Of course I won’t.” She shook her head. “Not ever.”
He didn’t say anything, but the muscle jumping up his cheek did.
Dio.
What was this?
“I’m glad, Luce,” he finally spoke. “But we gotta get shit straight.”
Luci lifted her chin. “I like shit straight.”
He kept looking at her like he was trying to read her when she wasn’t hiding anything so she just held his gaze.
Then he shook his head once, his lips twitched and he opened a bag of sour cream and chive chips and dumped half its contents on top of her perfectly constructed antipasto platter.
She did not say a word.
She didn’t care.
She liked sour cream and chive chips.
She was hungry.
So she got Hap a beer, pulled out a bottle of wine, handed it to him and then went to open the beer.
She did the difficult work of popping the cap and then Hap was taken care of.
He did the work of pulling the cork and pouring the wine into a glass she slid in front of him and Luci was taken care of.
Hap took his beer and the tray out to the deck.
Luci took her wine and grabbed a throw blanket and followed him.
They sat on her double-wide lounge, under the blanket, murmuring to each other about nothing, just catching up on what had happened in the time they’d lost, all while they munched.
They decimated the tray. Hap had to get up to refill her wine once through it, and after it, he fucked her on her lounger under the throw, again while he was still almost fully clothed, but he demanded Luci be naked under him.
It was delectable.
He carried her to bed.
He then left her there as he went down to close the windows.
He was gone awhile so she suspected he tidied a bit too (Hap did that, especially putting food away, she’d noticed he was a stickler about food, though they’d left none of that, he still was known to at least help carry dishes into the kitchen).
She was near sleep, and fighting it, when he crawled into bed beside her.
Oh, but that simple act felt good.
When he settled at her side on his back, she wrapped him up tight.
And that felt better.
He sighed.
“Today, I am happy,” she whispered into his skin.
He squeezed her with the arm he had around her.
“Thank you,” she finished.
He bent his neck to kiss the top of her head.
Luci smiled yet again.
Then she fell asleep.
Hap
Holding Luci to him, Hap stared at the top of the windows, seeing nothing but dark sky beyond.
He was royally screwed.
But that was okay.
Because she was not.
She wanted it, he could give her this. He did give her this. And he’d continue to give her this.
Then, one day, when some good-looking guy who made more money than him or was more interesting than him or who didn’t give a shit she played opera came along, Hap would be cool.
He wouldn’t be able to hide the pain, but he’d mask the depths of it, and he wouldn’t make it hard for her to scrape him off.
And he’d find a way to keep it cool and still be in her life, a part of the crew.
He was that guy from that Tim McGraw song.
And he was okay with that.
He was okay with anything.
Just to see her smile.
He Would Call
Luci
THE NEXT MORNING, with her espresso held up in front of her, Luci stood leaning her side into the kitchen island, staring out the windows at the sea.
Hap was still in bed, and since he’d done most of the work the day before, when Luci woke, she’d given herself time to enjoy lying beside him tangled up in his warmth before she left him to sleep.
She’d carefully extricated herself, got out of bed, went to wash her face, brush her teeth, put on a light moisturizer, pull a brush through her hair, don a blush satin nightie with delicate scallops of ivory lace at bodice and hem (her favorite) and shrug on her cream cashmere cable-knit robe.
She then went downstairs to confirm what she knew was true—she had the ingredients for Nutella pancakes and a packet of bacon.
Once she confirmed this, she wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged herself with joy that she had someone to make breakfast for.
And that someone was Hap.
Only then did she make herself an espresso.
Caffeine acquired, she commenced making the pancake batter.
That done, she made her second espresso.
Which brought her right there, with Hap sleeping in her bed upstairs, the ocean waves pounding their never-ending beat against the sand, everything all right with the world for the first time in a very long time.
Her lips were curved up as she lifted her espresso and took a sip.
She was lowering the cup when she caught movement out of the sides of her eyes.
She looked that way to see Hap, sleepy-eyed, wearing nothing but his jeans and a grumpy expression, lumbering down the stairs.
Yes.
Everything was all right with the world.
He was not a morning person. She already knew this. But usually it was because he’d over-imbibed the night before.
Luci would discover in short order why he looked grumpy that morning when he came right to her, took her cup out of her hand, put it on the island and yanked her into his arms.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he demanded, his voice slightly hoarse and still groggy.
“You did all the work yesterday,” she reminded him. “I thought you’d want some sleep.”
“You gettin’ out of bed means we couldn’t fuck before we both got out of bed.”
She melted into him, placing her hands on his warm chest.
“Does that mean you didn’t want sleep?” she asked.
“Do you. If I needed it, crash again after,” he explained shortly, and bluntly. His eyes strayed to the countertop before they came back to her. “You could get up, make pancake batter, and I’d haul my ass downstairs when I got enough shuteye.”
She was sorry she hadn’t gone that route.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” she told him softly.
He grunted unintelligibly.
She took that and being in his arms as confirmation there’d be a next time.
And yes.
All was right in the world.
“Do you want espresso?” she queried.
“Do you have regular coffee?” he queried in return.
She gave him a look.
“Does that mean yes?” he prompted.
“I’m Italian. We invented caffè.”
His lips quirked as he murmured, “Is that true?”
She had no idea.
But her people did it better than anyone in the world, so she felt it was safe at least to say they invented excellent coffee.
She decided not to respond.
Hap’s lip quirk turned into a full-blown smile right before he bent to her and kissed her nose.
Luci froze.
Hap didn’t feel it. He just gave her a squeeze before he let her go and sauntered to the coffee maker (a dual one she’d imported from Italy, rewired for American currents, both of which cost her a fortune, not to mention the appliance, which was far from inexpensive).