Page 24 of Car Wash
She laughs, cheeks flushing. “God. Of course you were.”
“I had to think about old carburetors just to keep my hard-on down.”
She climbs out of the car and stretches. I follow her inside through the garage entrance, trailing her like a man possessed.
We pass through the entryway into the cool, airy kitchen. It smells like lemons and sun-dried wood. Light streams in from the back doors, throwing golden squares across the stone floor. She opens the fridge and grabs the filtered water from the tapsystem we had installed last year—no waste, no plastic bottles, all clean living. It’s her doing. She wanted to cut down our footprint, and I’d bulldoze a mountain if it made her smile.
She grabs a wine glass for me, pours just enough to coat the bowl, and slides it across the kitchen island.
Then she hesitates.
“What’s that face?” I ask, watching her from across the counter.
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a long sip of her water, sets it down carefully, then comes around to where I’m standing. She winds her arms around my waist and presses her face to my chest.
I wrap her up, hands smoothing up her back, fingers threading through her hair. “Hey. What is it?”
She leans back just enough to look up at me, eyes sparkling.
“I need to tell you something.”
The air shifts. My chest tightens.
She doesn’t make me wait.
“I’m pregnant.”
Time stops.
The glass of wine is forgotten—I push it aside without a glance. She’s everything I see.
“You’re serious?” My voice comes out low, shaky.
She nods, smiling. “Dead serious.”
I don’t speak. I just kiss her. Hard.
I kiss her like I haven’t seen her in years, like I’ve been starving, like I need to kiss her to stay alive.
She melts into me. I grip her hips and lift her onto the counter, step between her thighs, bury my face in her neck.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so fucking much.”
Her hands are in my hair, her legs wrapped around my waist.
“Did you want that wine?” she teases, breathless.
“Fuck the wine,” I say against her collarbone. “The only thing I want to drink tonight is you.”
She laughs—light, full, glowing—and I feel the echo of it in my chest. Our life together is already full, already so much more than I ever thought I’d get. But this?
This is everything.
Epilogue
Sarah — Ten Years Later
John walksdown the steps into the driveway like he owns the whole street. He’s in black cargo shorts and a tight black T-shirt that hugs his chest and shows off the ink on his arms. Sunday suburban sex god. And all mine.
