Page 65 of Honeyed

Alana looks to me, I nod, and she snips the red ribbon.

“Come on in!” she cries, ushering the crowd into Lily.

Hugs, handshakes, and first-time greetings assault us as people filter into the store. We try our best to catch every single person, telling them hello or asking how they found out about us if we don’t recognize them.

I spend the next four hours watching my wife assist every customer who walks through the door, a lot of them the same locals she’s waited on at the restaurant for years, since she was a teenager. But there are a lot of new faces with the early summer crowd, and it excites me to no end to overhear so many of their conversations saying they’ll be back at the end of the week to buy more before they depart for home.

Alana moves through the space with effortless grace and immense knowledge of each item we decided to sell, and I’m in awe of her. She doesn’t drop until the last sale is made and the last customer is escorted out as August goes to lock up the front doors well after dusk.

“We did it,” my wife exclaims, sinking to the hardwood floor that a hundred or more people walked over today.

“Yes, we did.” I can’t help but let out an exhausted laugh as I sink down right beside her.

“Half the store is nearly sold out, we have to do a ton of inventory and re-stocking, and my feet are killing me,” August complains.

“You were a warrior today,” I compliment her.

“This place was a zoo. But damn, everybody loves the stuff you stocked in here, Alana.” Our store manager moseys around, picking up misplaced products and putting them back in their place.

“Seriously, they loved it.” I shake my wife’s shoulder to jazz her up.

Not that she needs it, her energy was off the wall and infectious today. It caught wildfire to the customers, who bought so much that I had to make an unexpected trip to the bank to make a deposit and get us more bills and change for those cashing out. We surpassed all our estimated sales for the first day, and we’ll need to ask our creators and local vendors for way more product moving forward.

“I’m not even attempting to organize a thing tonight. We’ll regroup early tomorrow morning. Go home, August.” Alana waves good night.

“You guys are the best.” She grins, then takes off.

For a moment, I worry about if she’s going to go home or find somewhere else to crash for the night. But I’ve provided all the help I can. Now we wait for the end of summer when she gets to move out, and I don’t have to worry so much anymore.

“Watching you today …” I shake my head in disbelief as I cradle Alana’s cheeks.

Cerulean blue eyes meet mine, and her faith in me is mirrored back. “I feel the same about you.”

“It was like I could read your mind, know exactly what you needed at any given moment. You were electric in here, baby.” I can’t help but get mushy with how delirious and happy I am.

“God, I’m so happy right now. Genuinely, insanely happy. I mean, I’ve been content throughout my life. Happy by anyone’s standards. But right here on this dirty floor next to you in a shop we opened with our own blood, sweat, and tears? This is the happiest I’ve been in my entire life.”

The three little words are right there, floating between us. But I don’t say them. This is Alana’s moment, and I want her to celebrate without anything overshadowing it.

So I just whisper, “me too,” while kissing her knuckles as I lace our fingers together.

Alana sighs dreamily as she looks up at the ceiling, taking it all in. But I know we can’t stay here all night, and she needs rest. Plus, we have a huge job come the morning, because we open tomorrow at nine.

“Let me take you home.” I offer her a hand as I stand, which she takes.

Instead of helping her to her feet, I scoop her up and begin carrying her to the back door toward the parking lot.

“You remember your promise?” she asks with exhaustion but lust in her voice.

“Of course I do. You think I’m ending this day anywhere but inside you.” I half growl, getting a second wind.

“Take me home, husband.” She bats her eyes dramatically and wraps her arms around my neck.

“Anything for you.”

Ain’t that the truth.

27

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