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“Jesus fucking Christ,” said a voice from the threshold. “I’m…oh, shit. Sorry, Padre.”
Waylon.
“Mmmm!” came a muffled scream as she tried to jerk the covers over her naked body. But there was nothing to cover her. The sheets were pinned under my body.
The door clicked closed. I couldn’t move yet. Her vagina was still pulsing and sucking me in deeper. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, but her eyes closed in mortification. I laughed, my cock still hard inside her, slipping with the jerking movements of our orgasm and our laughter.
“Fuck, Crow. I don’t know how I’m going to survive you.”
“But you’re going to keep loving me. That’s all the matters.” She held me in her arms, giving me strength and hope and all her love. Pouring herself into me with her slow, worshipful kiss.
I’d never let go.
Decca, Greek Easter
The smell in thekitchen was unmistakable. Yeasty, starchy, and warm. Gus was batch baking the communion bread.
“Yia-Yiá and your mom finally let me come home.”
“What was it this time?”
“Lamb organs. Skewered on a sword and wrapped with intestines. I was the one responsible for rinsing the intestines.”
He smiled like it was an inside joke. “Kokoretzi. Pappou’s favorite.” Gus washed the caked dough off his hands. “Actually, Pappou’s the only one who eats it. At least you’re not squeamish.”
“I didn’t think I was until George sliced that poor lamb’s throat.”
“Yeah, he’s the best at it. Quick. Doesn’t let it suffer.”
“Why don’t you just go to a butcher?”
“Tradition. From Greece. I’m sure when Yia-Yiá and Pappou die, we’ll go to Publix like any other family. And as you saw this morning, we eat more than just a boneless leg of lamb. Yia-Yiá gets the eyeballs.”
“Have you ever—”
“Of course.” He leaned back on the kitchen counter, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me closer. “When I was a boy, and I had to look like a badass in front of George. It was revolting.”
“I can’t imagine cooked and congealed vitreous fluid would an appetizing texture.” Tilting my head back, he kissed the sensitive spot under my jaw.
“Speaking of appetizing texture...” His kisses trailed lower, making my back arch as electricity crackled across my chest and down my arms. I threaded my hands in his hair and reluctantly pulled him back.
“I’m caked in lamb guts. Let me shower first.”
“Why do I feellike this is the wedding reception you should have had?” Bethany handed me a Manhattan and sipped from her own syrupy sweet Mai Tai.
“Because our skeleton was incomplete,” I said. “We hadn’t yet exhumed all our bones.” I closed my teeth over the bamboo cocktail stick and slid the fancy cherry off the end, looking across the bar at my husband bending over the pool table, lining up a tricky shot to the side pocket.
He sunk the eightball. His eyes lifted straight into mine before standing upright. Waylon slapped him on the back. George glared at the table, his fingers tapping the cue before returning it to the rack.
I wandered over to congratulate Gus. Or maybe just to feel his arm wrap around my waist for a few seconds. He was collared in public. Neither of us liked to be too handsy.
“Waylon was saying how the attic is apparently a common room to… escape.” Gus smiled at me.
“Oh my God, I forgot Waylon saw me naked. I will never live that down.” I hung my head.
“It was just your back.” Soula shrugged. “You’re definitely not the only ones who’ve ever slipped up those attic steps for a quickie. Why do you think we drew straws to see who was going to come get you?” Soula gripped her beer tightly, hoarding it like a dragon guarding its gold. She was breastfeeding, working, breastfeeding, teaching, and breastfeeding an infant and toddler. A night out—with alcohol and without her children—was indeed something to be treasured.
“When did you—”
