Page 242 of Midnight Curfew

Thank you, Krisjen. Or maybe it was Aracely. Whenever I leave laundry here—accidentally, of course—it’s magically washed for me.

“No one has any sweaters!” Anna-Katherine cries from her room upstairs.

We’re staying in the Bay for the holidays, celebrating with lots of parties and outings with the kids. Anna-Katherine won’t let us miss out, and it’s a chance to capture some new pictures, in any case.

“We’ll buy clothes when we get there!” Callum shouts back up to her window.

I peek around the corner, across the kitchen, and through the window, seeing him waist-deep in the pool. Hanging his elbows on the edge behind him, he pulls a cigar out of his mouth, blowing out smoke and tapping the ash into a dish.

“Just pack toiletries!” he adds.

“I’m not buying underwear with you guys around!”

I laugh to myself, tying the waist and grabbing a bottle and two glasses as I head outside.

Stepping into the balmy night, I hear fireworks popping not so distantly, Christmas Eve upon us.

Macon appears at the corner of the house as I round the pool, greasy from the garage as he stares at Callum. “The screaming?” he prompts as if Anna-Katherine is a toy that needs its batteries removed.

But his wife brings in the mail from the street. “Get used to it,” she tells him, looking stunning in a strapless floor-length white lounge dress, her hair up in a high bun as she moves effortlessly with her small baby bump. She still has three months to go, but Macon’s going to have a screamer of his own soon.

They both disappear back into the garage, and I set down the glasses and bottle next to his ashtray and drop into the pool.

“Where have you been?” he says as he brings the cigar to his mouth.

He narrows his eyes, trying to look stern, but it only makes me want to play.

I press my body to his, reaching behind him to pour us each a glass. His own leather bracelet—with the hourglass and the snake—wraps around his wrist, but I’m trying to talk him into a tattoo. I want the family symbol on him.

“Meeting with the landscaper about the cemetery,” I reply.

“Aren’t you landscapers?”

I cock an eyebrow. “You’re just dying to see me mow a lawn again, aren’t you?”

Finally, he breaks into a smile. “It was the best day of my life,” he muses. “For a long time.”

If I were a better guy then, I would’ve been more careful with him, but…

Would we have been ready for each other? It’s hard to have any regret anymore, because we ended up here and happy. Like that’s the way it was supposed to go all along.

“You were so hot,” I coo, taking the cigar from his fingers. “Standing up there, looking like the man with a girl hanging off you, but you wanted my ass, didn’t you?”

I take a puff as he tugs the chain around my neck, pulling me in. “You liked me looking.”

“Damn right, I did.”

We’re about to kiss, but a shrill voice slices through our moment. “I can’t find my charger!”

A tool clangs against the garage floor, and I wince. Macon’s going to have a fucking fit.

“We have extras!” I call out as quietly as possible.

Leaning in, I return my attention to my man. “Seriously, how many fucking chargers can she lose?”

“She’s excited to see snow,” he tells me.

We’re taking her to Colorado—to Vail—and letting her learn how to ski and ice-skate and wear lots of scarves through the New Year. We leave right after Christmas.