Page 4 of Turtle Dove

“Something happened to Cadence at school today,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What? Is she okay?” she asks, with her beautiful eyes wide.

“Robby Rhine told her that Santa wasn’t real.”

“That little motherfucker!” she whisper-yells.

“That is exactly the name I called him in my head.”

“So what are we going to do? I refuse to let Christmas be ruined for her at five-years-old, Gray. I can’t let it happen.” She is pacing the room.

“I tried to tell her that Santa is real if you believe.”

“Kids need to see things sometimes to believe them.” She freezes and her eyes light up. “I think I have an idea that can help.”

This woman, this beautiful woman, who has been through so much—survived so much—is standing in front of me, offering to help my child believe in Santa Claus again.

“I fucking love you,” I say.

That rewards me with a smile from her glossed lips. “I fucking love you too.”

I cross the room and slide my arms around her to rest my hands at the small of her back.

“Thank you, Mills. For loving her.”

“She’s hard not to love. She’s half you.”

Her lips are ghosting over mine, not quite kissing me, but nearly. I can smell the mint in her breath from her toothpaste. I can smell the perfume she spritzes on her neck after her shower every day.

“You’re intoxicating.”

“And you’re distracting me from the point.” She tips her head back and lets me lay a trail of kisses along her neck. “Operation Santa Claus needs planning.”

I pull back and kiss her forehead. “You’re right, but this,” I motion back and forth between us, “will be continued later.”

She rises up onto the tips of her toes to kiss my lips. “I hope so.”

I try to deepen it, to keep it going, even though I acknowledged that we would have to do this later, which pulls a smile from those lips of hers.

She presses her hand to my chest and pushes me back.

“Down, boy. Case and Nora will be here in a few minutes for dinner.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s actively trying her best to not attack me right here and now, or at least, that’s what the caveman side of my brain likes to think.

***

“Dig in everyone,” Mills says, as she places the last platter of food on the table.

I lean over and kiss her cheek as she sits. “You made as much food today as you did on Thanksgiving. What’s your end game here? Fattening us all up?”

“Don’t you dare discourage her from feeding me, Grayson,” Case adds with a chuckle.

She tucks her hair behind her ear and rolls her eyes. “Who else am I going to try new recipes on if not my friends?”

“Fair enough.”

Ever since Mills got the weekly feature on the website for Bubble Magazine, she’s been whipping up so much food for Cadence and I on a regular basis, and even feeds Case and Nora just as much with left overs and make ahead meals.

I’m not worthy of her. Not even close.

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