His Light in the Dark
Page 33
“What are you thinking?” Cole asked as the minister prepared to start.
Telling him exactly what I was thinking could possibly lead to another encounter just like it but with Dad and Aunt Dee looking on, I didn’t think this was wise. So instead, I answered with a simpler truth. “How lucky I am to be standing here with you.”
And as was his way, he didn’t wait for the minister to ask the questions we already knew the answers to, but skipped to the end and kissed his bride.
Our house was in Bucks County, a small house with more yard than house. Dad and Cole had built not only the swing set but also the playhouse, one that Cole painted a dark gray, as close to black as he could get. Dad lived across the street and Aunt Dee just up the street. I still worked for Freddie boy, loved the work and how both father and son had stepped up in my time of need, but I worked on a part-time basis and much of my work I could do from home. On the days I did go into the city, Cole came with me to check on Tickled Ivories, which now had a full-time manager looking after the place. My apartment, Cole bought it and sometimes we snuck off to that little retreat.
Our son, Declan Mace Campbell, looked just like his daddy, but he had the Donati eyes. Seeing Cole holding Declan always had my heart beating funny. Big, strong, sometimes remote Cole, staring down at his son in wonder; it was a beautiful sight.
Dad and Cole opened a garage together, one right in our little town and I was their office manager. Cole surprised me when I saw his bedazzled Chucks sitting next to his picture of Declan and me at the garage. He had kept them, all of this time he’d kept them. Most days, Declan and I joined them for lunch, sitting at the picnic table setup behind the shop. Declan had recently turned one and was as fascinated with Dad’s sockets as I had been.
We hadn’t yet found a replacement restaurant for Vincent’s and made the trip a few times a year because I couldn’t go too long without my chicken parmigiana fix.
Janie and Timothy were married four months after Cole and me, their daughter Nicole was born five months later.
Having Dad back, watching him with my son and my husband, and knowing that he was only ever a walk across the street, I thanked the stars every day for him.
And Cole. Marriage and a child hadn’t softened him, he was still a bit hard, remote at times and still had that crude mouth, but a day never passed that I didn’t feel his love. I wouldn’t change one thing about him, well maybe the spankings, but they happened very rarely.
I hadn’t heard Cole approach when he wrapped his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my head. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at Declan’s playhouse.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to have to add another one next to it.”
Cole’s body stilled, his arms tightened. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah. And if it’s a girl, we’re painting the house pink.”
“Not pink.”
“Pink, Cole, with purple trim.” Turning into him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Give me this or I’m going to bedazzle the house too.”
“Fucking Christ. Okay, pink but no purple trim, white.”
“Deal.”
His thumb brushed across my cheek, his eyes tracking the motion. “Love you, Mia.”
It never grew old, hearing him say that, especially since he didn’t say it often.
“What I feel for you goes way beyond love.”
And there was that smile. I loved it when he smiled.
“Are you sassing me?”
“Sassing?”
“More creative. My hand’s getting itchy.”
“No, Cole.”
He looked wicked as his hands moved lower to my ass. “When’s your dad bringing Declan home?”
“In an hour.”
“Plenty of time.” He lifted me into his arms.
My body started to pulse. “Where are we going?”
“And there you go again, asking a question you already know the answer to.”
Desire burned through me, from my head right down to my toes. It was silly but since Declan had been born, I felt funny making love during the day, especially knowing he was right across the street with my dad. This didn’t deter Cole, who always persuaded me to his way of thinking, but I still mentioned it. “But it’s not dark.”
He stopped moving; his voice took on an edge, his expression turning tender. “No, and it will never be again.”
And just when I thought it wasn’t possible to love him more than I already did.
We reached the bed and he dropped me onto it. With an economy of moves that impressed as well as aroused, he undressed us both.
“Now about that sassing.”
His big, beautiful body covered mine. Being bad never felt so good.
A special thank you to Michelle, Raj, Meredith, Donna, Lynnette, Kimberly, Yolanda, Ana Kristina, Dawn, Sarah and Kimmy. Thanks for taking time to read and provide feedback on this story. For an author, writing is a labor of love, but having readers who are as interested and invested in your stories as you are is amazing. Thank you.
Trish Bacher, Editor in Heels, my copy editor. Thank you for adding your expertise to Mia and Cole’s story. Now if you would move closer, we could celebrate over dinner and drinks. Maybe 2017…
To the readers who follow me on Facebook and those in my new reading group, Femme Fabulous Readers, I so enjoy chatting with you throughout the day. Writing is very solitary, so I love the interaction; it keeps me from talking to myself, which I still do and often.
To Murphy Rae, from Indie Solutions, the cover is absolutely perfect.
To Melissa Stevens, the Illustrated Author, you're amazing. From social media banners to typeset graphics, you nail it every time.
Kiki Chatfield and The Next Step PR—Ruth, Vicci and Jess—thank you for your tireless work in promoting my books. Love you, ladies.
L.A. Fiore is the author of several novels including Beautifully Damaged, A Glimpse of the Dream and Waiting for the One. She lives in Bucks County, Pennsylvania with her best friend, who happens to be her husband, her two incredible kids, her faithful dog and their two cats that have no discernible manners. Her twin sister lives right down the street with her puppy, Luna, a.k.a. Lunatic. She eats walls, dog gates, furniture, plants, shoes, other dogs…
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