“Sure, baby,” I say, “but you’ve gotta stop letting my mother work you so hard.” I squeeze on my husband’s tense neck muscles.
Keeland has had a bit of free time on his hands since he sold Master Ink. My mother has been putting him to work on repairs, gardening and little renovation projects. At first, it was cute, but now, she’s starting to get a bit carried away. Aside from that, it’s super convenient living next door to my parents. They gladly watch the baby, drop off prepared meals and help with the cleaning when we need a hand.
Keeland doesn’t mind being my mother’s personal handyman in return, but he’s been craving something more, though. We’ve been talking about what’s next for him. He’s considering subletting one of the rooms in Isla’s yoga studio to open a small tattoo parlor. It would be the first in Reyfield.
As for me, I plan on opening my very own virtual auditing practice as soon as Hannah’s old enough to be away from her mommy for a few hours a day.
All-in-all, life is perfect. I never thought I’d say this, but little, quiet Reyfield is perfect for us.
“Mmm…now, I’ll be thinking about that massage all throughout dinner,” Keeland says wistfully.
“Will you be requiring a happy ending, sir?” I say with a mischievous laugh as I rope my arms around his neck.
He smirks at me. “Well, I won’t stop you if you want to give me a blowjob, but this –” he waves his arms, motioning around our messy kitchen; the sink piled high with dirty pots, the casserole ingredients on the counter, the baby paraphernalia covering every flat surface. “This…You and Hannah in our home – you’re my happy ending.”
THE END
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