Page 84 of Ardently Yours

I close my eyes and weave on my barstool. Bob props me back into place, and I turn to look him in the eyes. “Thanks, Bob. I appreciate it.”

Bob nods, his lips tipping with amusement. “Sure thing, Arden.”

“As I was saying.” I lift a finger. “Charlotte is the most wunnerful person I’ve ever known. And she made me wait and wait and—I tell you the truth, sometimes I thought I was going to lose my mind with it. But I’d have waited a hunerd years. She does have an incredible pussy too, though—”

“Nope,” Max says. “We heard enough. You’re done.”

Bob reaches for the last shot on the bar. “Welcome to the family, son. Let’s all pretend this conversation never happened.”

These Are Days

Arden

May 15, 1999

Eyes narrowed with suspicion,Henry steps out of our SUV and onto the gravel drive.

I drove us here, myself, which was enough of a change in routine to make him uncomfortable, but I wasn’t about to bring a driver here. The team following directly ahead and behind is enough coverage. I’m aiming for “normal” for Charlotte and Bronnie.

Before we go inside, we wait for Reese to check the cabin.

Henry eyes the peeling green paint on the front porch. “Dad. You can’t be serious.” His voice is a loud whisper of horror. “What is this place?”

I smile at him gamely. “It’s called a cabin. Haven’t you ever read any stories about staying in a cabin? It’s going to be fun. We have our own little dock there. Our own little beach on the lake.”

Henry scratches his head. “We own a house on the beach in the Hamptons, but we’re taking a vacation in a shack on a lake?”

“A lot of people take vacations like this. It’s exciting to try new experiences.”

“Who’s cooking our food?” he asks.

I lift an eyebrow in challenge. “I am.”

He squints at me. “You don’t know how to cook.”

“I read a book about it last week.”

He shakes his head.

“This will be good for us.”

Henry pushes his glasses up his nose. “It smells strange here.”

“It’s fresh air and lake water.”Andpossibly a hint of mildew. I take a bracing breath. “Smells good, doesn’t it?”

Henry looks as though I said the weirdest thing he’s ever heard. “No.”

Gabriel pipes up. “I bet that smell is fish pee.”

He takes off running for the dock. “What’s this weird silver floatie thing?”

“It’s called a pontoon boat.”

Gabriel slows and turns, propping his hands on his hips. “That’s not a boat.”

I crouch down and indicate that he should come back to talk with me. When he’s beside me, I put an arm around him and point out the parts of the pontoon and how it works. “So, you see,” I conclude, “people consider it a kind of party boat.”

“Just take the yacht,” Gabriel says.

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