Page 136 of The Fine Art of Faking It
Eden slid her hands under Davis’s sweater, letting her fingers play across his abs.
“You are worth every second of every inconvenience, every fight, every fire—”
She pinched him, and they both laughed.
“God, I want you naked,” she murmured against his mouth, desire flaming into a four-alarm fire.
The door swung open, and Bryson hurried into the kitchen. “You two might want to get out here with the dessert… and more booze,” he suggested.
“On our way,” Eden promised.
“You’re doing well. In another decade or two, they might start using each other’s first names,” Bryson said cheerily.
Davis waited until Bryson disappeared through the door. “How hard do you think it would be to convince them all to move out of town?”
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Eden said with a grin.
She plated up the last slice of cheesecake. “Ready?”
He squared his shoulders. “Ready. The sooner we get them out of here, the sooner we can have Naked Christmas Sex.”
“I like those priorities.”
Extra Epilogue
Blue Moon 1966
The fine spring day brought Blue Moon residents out of their stuffy homes and into the sunshine. Winter bones creaked, and vitamin D deficient bodies slowly awakened with the season. Storefronts threw open their doors to welcome foot traffic. Husbands brought their sedans to gleaming shines in driveways with the aid of garden hoses. Wives mixed up the year’s first batches of lemonade and iced tea.
Neighbors gossiped over backyard fences while they hung out the laundry to dry.
“Isn’t it a fine day, Cordelia?” Laura Beth asked.
Cordelia brushed her bouffant back from her face and dropped the folded table cloth on the picnic table. “Never a finer day,” she agreed. “How’s little Tilly feeling today?” Laura Beth’s baby had been to the doctor twice that week.
Laura Beth waved a hand dismissively. “It was just what we thought. We’ve got ourselves an ornery baby girl. Nothing wrong with her but her attitude, the doctor says.”
Cordelia giggled. “Just remember, if you can’t take another minute of her crying, rubbing just a dab of paregoric or brandy on her gums will get you a few hours of peace.”
“And what do I give myself?” Laura Beth laughed. She slipped a pack of cigarettes out of her apron pocket and handed one over the fence.
They blew twin streams of smoke up toward the beautiful, blue sky.
“How’s your little Ned doing? He was just the cutest little thing in his Easter outfit,” Laura Beth crooned.
“He’s just the sweetest little blessing.” On cue, Cordelia’s backdoor banged open and a little boy in matching baby blue shorts and shirt with a crisp white peter pan collar emerged.
“Mama! The lady with the makeup is here!” Little Ned piped up.
“I forgot all about the Avon lady,” Cordelia said, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the picnic table.
“Send her next door when you’re done,” Laura Beth insisted. “I’m almost out of my persimmon lipstick.”
“I’ll do that. And you and Bert are still coming over for cocktails Saturday night, aren’t you?” Cordelia said, starting for her backdoor.
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll bring my fondue pot!”
“Perfect!”
