Page 80 of Tru Blue
“Really?” Sparks of excitement shimmered in her eyes.
He nodded, kissed her again. “You and the kids are my life. Let’s make it official.”
She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him deep and slow, bringing his half-mast cock back into the game. “I want that, too, so very much. I love you, and I love your kids.”
“Our kids,” he corrected her. “They’ve never been just mine. We’ve been together since the night I found them.”
“Oh, Truman,” she whispered, and her brows knitted. She shook her head and shifted her eyes away.
Her lips pressed into a hard line. His heart, and his cock, deflated as he set her down on her feet.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. You said something so very right I think I’m going to cry. Yes, I’ll move in with you. But I come with a lot of books.”
Thank fucking God. “Baby, I’ll build floor-to-ceiling bookcases if that’s what it takes.” He kissed her again, her salty tears slipping between their lips like secrets, sealing their plans.
GEMMA WALKED ON air for the rest of the day. After the kids were asleep, they transferred their clothes from the kids’ room to the new dresser in their bedroom. Our bedroom. Gemma smiled with the thought. This was really happening. Even though she already practically lived at his place, nothing could compare to seeing the love in his eyes, or the emotions on his face, as he asked her to make it official.
“I’ll never be able to go to that furniture store again,” she said, embarrassment flushing her cheeks as she remembered coming out of the bathroom and finding a salesman glowering at them.
Truman looked up from the drawer he was filling. “Because he probably heard every”—his voice rose several octaves—“There! Yes! Yes!”
She threw a pillow at him, and he tackled her onto the bed, kissing her until she was laughing, and then he kissed her some more, until those laughs turned to hungry moans.
“You’ve turned me into a sex maniac.” She wiggled out from beneath him.
“One day I’ll turn you into my sex-maniac wife.”
She nearly choked. “Truman…?” He held her so tight she was sure he could feel her racing heart.
“Haven’t you thought about it?”
“Well, sure, but…” Had she thought about it? Not in so many words. They were together and happy, and she just assumed they’d stay that way. Maybe one day they’d get married, but she hadn’t been actively wondering when. Were they really talking about this?
“Not now, but one day. After my parole is over, when things with Quincy are figured out and the children are legally settled.”
Suddenly it all made sense. While she saw herself moving through life in a constant flow, Truman saw himself riding in a boat along a river, making necessary stops along the way. Checking off boxes on his way to a more settled life. He was out of prison, but it still wasn’t behind him. He never made a big deal of checking in with the parole office. It was just one phone call each week, and he did it in the privacy of another room, or stepped outside on the deck, which made it easy for Gemma to write it off as just another phone call. But to Truman it was obviously a dark cloud hovering over him with a clear end in sight. Another step in the right direction. She understood his wanting to wait until he was clear of those ties, and she knew he worried about Quincy making it through rehab and staying clean. Quincy would be a forever worry, as they’d already discussed. Addiction was a lifelong struggle. But his comment about the children confused her.
She sat up and asked, “What does that mean? ‘Legally settled’?”
Truman moved to the edge of the bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and wrung his hands together. “They don’t have birth certificates, and I’m not their legal guardian yet. I have to take care of those things.”
“Oh,” she said, relieved. “The way you said it, I thought there was something more to it. Isn’t that just filling out a few forms at the courthouse or through an attorney or something?”
He shook his head, turning serious eyes toward her. “Not for me.”
