He used her hand in his to guide it around his back and then he let it go and pulled her into his arms.
He engulfed her in a hug and Luci pressed into his big, strong body, wrapping both her arms around him, holding close.
“I miss him,” she said to Sam’s chest.
He held Travis to that chest as he died.
He held Travis to that chest after he died.
He held Travis to his chest when he carried him home.
His voice was thick when he replied, “Me too.”
She tipped her head back and caught his eyes. “Grazie, il mio bell’amico.”
“It was my pleasure, sweetheart,” he whispered. His study of her face became acute. “You happy?”
Luci felt her face gentle. “I woke up in his arms. He told me I was his religion last night. And he was not hungry, but I was, so he swung by Bo’s on the way here yesterday.”
Sam’s head ticked and his eyes registered surprise then warmth at the “religion” comment.
He was smiling by the end.
“So yes, Sam,” she continued. “Though, I’m not happy, as such. He’s making me happy.”
“Good,” he muttered.
“Now, I must go. He doesn’t like it when I leave him alone in bed in the morning.”
His smile got bigger and he gave her a squeeze, saying, “I bet he doesn’t.”
She shot him a return smile and squeezed him back.
Then she moved her arms from around him so she could catch his head in her hands. She went up on her toes to kiss each cheek and pulled away but didn’t let go.
“I love you, Sam. So very much.”
He placed his hands on her neck and kissed her forehead, somewhat like Hap kissed her nose, if not exactly like Hap gave her that.
“I love you too, Luci,” he replied after he’d pulled back.
She let him go and stepped away. “We’ll see you later?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He looked down the beach toward her house and back at her. “You walk here?”
It was her turn to nod.
“Babe, I’ll walk you back.”
“Not necessary. It isn’t far.”
“Luci—”
“Sam, I’m good.” She stared straight into his eyes and the inflection in her tone was much changed. “I’m good, caro.”
It took him a while to come to terms with that in all its many nuances.
Then he nodded once again.
Only then, she knew, did he truly let her go.
And let Travis go.
Odd, but she felt no loss. She thought she would. She thought this would be difficult.
Instead, it was beautiful. Precious. A treasured memory made that she would never forget.
She gave him another smile and a small wave as she turned and strolled to the walkway to the beach.
Luci moved at a much faster clip on the way home. Or as fast as the sand would let her white Keds take her.
She hit the gate to the switchback stairs at the side of her deck and punched in the code that unlocked it. She swung the latticework door open, walked under the arch, and made sure the latch caught behind her.
She walked up the stairs, eyes to her feet, but lifted her head the instant she hit the top.
She then halted.
Hap was leaning against the side of a closed window in the opening made by a panel he’d folded back. He was wearing much the same as Sam, except not track pants, but navy sweats, and not a long sleeve white T-shirt, but a cream, thermal, three-button, long-sleeved Henley.
He had his arms crossed on his chest and his bare feet crossed at his ankles.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he asked.
She grinned and moved toward him.
The minute she made it to him, he uncrossed his arms and pulled her into them.
She gave him as much of her weight as she could with two hands at his pecs.
“That go okay?” he asked, concern unhidden in his eyes.
“Yes. Sam will be over sometime today to talk with you.”
She was right.
He was relieved.
He didn’t hide that either.
“You maneuver that or did Skip?” he queried.
“He’d come to that conclusion before our talk so my guess . . . Skip.”
“Right.”
She had very good friends.
She had Hap’s arms around her.
The sun was shining and the waves were crashing into the shore.
So maybe life was not that unkind.
Luci kissed him under his chin.
When she was done doing that, he inquired, “You gonna make me breakfast, or are we gonna go back upstairs and fuck, then you make me breakfast?”
She didn’t even have to think about it.
“I choose option two.”
“Excellent,” he muttered, curling an arm around her shoulders and drawing her inside.
He kept it around her shoulders when he folded the window back into place and made sure it was secured.
And he continued to keep it around her shoulders when he walked them upstairs.
He removed it when they made it to her bed.
But then, of course, he needed it, and his hands, and other parts of him, to bring her even closer.
His woman. His girl. Luci.
Hap
HAP WALKED IN his back door and was instantly accosted by his woman.
Though, he was accosted in a way he’d never been accosted by anyone before.
She had hold of his head and was kissing every inch of his face she could reach.
He put his hands on her hips and laughing asked, “Jesus, babe. What the fuck is going on?”
She pulled away and his breath stuck at the look of unadulterated joy on her face.
“Kia and Sam had their ultrasound today. It’s a boy!”
His stomach warmed, his mouth smiled, and his lips said, “Fuckin’ brilliant.”
“I know!” she yelled, dancing away from him and into the kitchen. “We’re having champagne to celebrate.”
He was not having champagne.
Champagne did not go with the tacos he was making for dinner that night.
And he hated champagne.
He didn’t tell her that.
He wandered into the kitchen after her.
It was Wednesday, a week and a half after their roller-coaster weekend at the beach.
Last week, she’d come to him on Tuesday, as ordered, left on Thursday, and Saturday, he’d used the remote she’d given him to park in her garage. He had to wait all of half an hour for her to get home from the shop late Saturday morning.
On Sunday, since she’d arranged things with the women who worked her store, she’d come back with him. They were returning again on Saturday.
He had no idea how long they could go on like this.
He also didn’t care.
He was realizing that Luciana was a woman who lived in the moment.
Since she’d pulled his head out of his ass, those moments were fucking great.
So he was sticking there with her.
And he had a strong feeling he’d be down with that even if it lasted fifty years.
“I’m gonna get outta my fatigues then I’ll get on dinner,” he told her, head in the fridge, grabbing a beer.
“I can make dinner, Happy.”
If they were out, among people, she called him Hap or George.
When they were alone, not all the time, but a lot of the time, she called him Happy.
She was big into endearments, and he figured that was part of it, adding the “py” like she might add an “ie” to his real name to be cute, sweet, familiar.
Mostly, he figured she was making a point.
Since it was a good point that meant good things for her, he was down.