Page 73 of Cool for the Summer

“Nothing? It looks like you’re baking.” I go around the narrow kitchen island and peer into the bowl attached to the mixer on the counter in front of him. Something that looks suspiciously like chocolate chip cookie dough fills the bowl. I stare at him. “You are. You are baking.”

“I know, but we’re going to Jack and Pete’s later and I thought?—”

“It’s your day off and you’re baking cookies. You’re a maniac,” I say, enfolding him in a big sweaty hug because I love him so much I can’t go another second without touching him.

He wraps his arms around me, not protesting the hug or the sweat. “I know. But you’re the one who told me that doing something I love for a job could be rewarding, and you were right. I still love making cookies, even though I do it for work.”

“Good thing, because I think if you closed the shop, the fine citizens of Rosedale would revolt and come after you with pitchforks.” Beck’s Cookie Counter was a hit from day one, growing its revenue every month. Beck almost immediately had to take on more employees. He’s made a few missteps, but the kid is a natural business owner, a great boss, and the sky’s the limit as far as I’m concerned. Beck’s Cookie Empire is truly not out of reach, if he wants it.

“Anyway, I’m almost done. I just have to bake these and then I’m free,” he says. “We were going to look at bathroom fixtures, weren’t we?”

I groan. “Can we take a break from house stuff for one day?”

“Oh god, yes, please,” he says, sagging into me. “We need a break.”

I kiss my way from the top of his ear to his mouth, where I lose track of time for a while. “I need a shower,” I protest when he starts rubbing against me and giving me ideas about how I’d like to spend the rest of the morning.

“So do I,” he murmurs against the pulse in my neck. “Wanna take one together?”

“What about your cookies?”

“The dough needs to rest anyway,” he says.

“Awesome.”

Together we stumble toward the stairs, kiss at the base of them for a minute, then break apart, laughing a little. Beck’s cheeks are flushed and his hair’s standing up straight. He looks young, but I know firsthand how much he’s taken on. He’s impressed me over and over again this past year with his dedication, his creativity, and the fact that even though he’s been focused on making his business a success, he always makes time for me, for us. When I got a part in a play with a four-week run in the city over the winter, he rearranged his schedule so he could come and stay with me every single weekend, and he went to every show he could. We even traveled to Apple Vale to have Christmas with my family, which I haven’t done in years. Mom and Dad and my sister loved him, of course, especially after he shared his molasses cookie recipe, making us all feel like Aunt Sharleen was with us.

I thought last summer was amazing, but the past year has been even better.

When we finally get to our bathroom, I strip and get the shower running, but pause before stepping under the spray. “Summer’s almost over.”

Beck steps out of his underwear, leaving him mouthwateringly naked. “So it is.”

“We’ve been together for more than a year.”

“True.”

We celebrated our anniversary not long ago with dinner at the Italian restaurant on Main Street, then came home and fucked slowly on the couch in the dark, Beck grinding down on me, and me feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

“We live together. We own this house together. We have a dog.”

“True, true, and true.” Beck smiles at me as if he doesn’t know where I’m going with this.

“And I love you more every day,” I say, because that’s true, too.

His smile breaks a little, but I know it’s because he feels the same way. “I love you, Donovan.”

“So why don’t we get married?” I’ve been wanting to propose since before our anniversary. I can’t imagine my life without Beck, and I don’t want to.

“What?”

“Why don’t we?—”

“I heard you, I heard you.” And then I have an armful of Beck and the bathroom’s filling with steam and I’m laughing because I’m being kissed within an inch of my life, which I think means the man I love wants to marry me, too.

“Is that a yes?” I ask, just to be sure, when Beck’s mouth is no longer devouring mine.

“That’s the biggest yes. The most yes. A thousand, million yeses.”

“I thought so.” My heart pulses with joy. Beck is going to be my husband, and we’ll both get to live with our favorite roommate for the rest of our lives.

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