“It’s probably nothing,” I tell him. “I bet she just wanted to know Rusty’s shoe size or something like that. Maybe she’s buying her shoes.”
Daniel snorts.
“She hasn’t bought Rusty shoes in…”
He thinks for a moment.
“Ever. She’s never bought Rusty shoes.”
“Quit thinking about it and come inside,” I say, taking him by the shoulder. “It’s freezing out here and she was probably just drunk.”
Daniel sighs and lets me lead him back in.
“I hope you’re right,” he says.* * *Violet holds a paper plate up in front of my face. On it is a slice of blackberry pie, covered with plastic wrap.
“Do you see this pie?” she asks me, her face and voice completely serious.
I just sigh and cross my arms.
“Eli.”
“Yes, I see the pie.”
“This is my pie,” she says. “I nearly had to stab your brother Levi with a fork to get it. And I love you, but if you try to eat it, I’ll stab you with a fork.”
“I understand,” I say. “You want me to eat it while you’re asleep.”
Violet does not look amused. We’re standing in our kitchen, putting away the leftovers that my mom made us take home.
My mom’s pie is one of the eternal mysteries of the universe, because it’s amazing. The woman is one of the worst cooks I’ve ever met, but an incredible baker. It defies logic.
“You already had a piece,” she says. “I watched you eat it. This one is mine, and I’m saving it.”
“For when?”
“For whenever I want.”
I take a step closer. Violet narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t move.
“A fork, you say?”
“Eli.”
I consider this, looking down into Violet’s shark-colored eyes. I’m trying not to laugh. I think she is, too, because she puts one hand over the pie
“Don’t look at it,” she says.
“Which fork?”
“All of them,” she says.
“Okay,” I finally say.
I grab the pie and hold it over my head.
“Worth it,” I say, grinning at her.
“Dammit!” she yelps, grabbing one bicep and pulling.
I switch the pie to the other hand. I’ve got about seven inches on her, so she doesn’t stand much of a chance.
“Don’t make me drop it,” I say. “Then no one gets the pie.”
Violet turns and opens the silverware drawer. When she turns back, she’s got a fork in each hand. She brandishes them.
“I’ll do it,” she says. “Don’t make me.”
“Go ahead,” I dare her.
She makes a half-hearted stabbing motion. I block her with my free hand, dodge the other fork. She gets the first one free, moves past my hand, and pokes me in the ribs.
It kinda tickles.
“Was that it?” I tease.
“Come on,” she says. “You already had pie. Don’t take my pie.”
I grin at her again, then toss the pie onto the counter. Violet breathes a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” she says.
I lean back against the counter, grab her, pull her in. Violet falls into place perfectly.
“Did you really stab Levi with a fork?” I ask.
“Almost,” she says. “I only almost stabbed him.”
I start laughing.
“Sorry,” she says, looking off to the side. “It was the heat of the moment, I probably shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sure he deserved it,” I tell her. “Besides, I’m glad you can hold your own against them, since none of you are going anywhere.”
She stands on her tiptoes, tilts her face up and kisses me, and even though she’s warm and familiar it sends a shiver of sparks down my body.
“I love you,” she says. “And I’m sorry I stabbed you with a fork.”
“I think I’ll live,” I murmur, kissing her again. “I love you too.”
We stay there for a long time, kissing in our kitchen, in the house we bought, in the life we built together. The life we’re still building.
She hasn’t stopped surprising me. I don’t think she ever will.
Violet pulls back, one thumb finding its way under the layers I’m wearing, sweet friction along my skin.
“Bed?” she asks, smiling, one eyebrow cocked.
“Ladies first,” I say, following the love of my life into our bedroom.THE END