“Right. That’s done, bedtime,” Mitch decreed, lifting his legs off the coffee table so Billy could get through.

Billy jumped up and rounded the couch while Mitch and I watched him go.

He stopped halfway to the mouth of the hall and turned back to Mitch.

“Thanks for today, Mitch, it was fun.”

“We’ll do it again, Bud,” Mitch replied. “Now hit the sack. Yeah?”

Billy nodded. “Yeah. ’Night, Mitch,” he muttered, looked at me and called, “’Night, Auntie Mara.”

“Goodnight, honey,” I called back.

Billy resumed moving to his room. I looked at Mitch mostly because he’d leaned into me and shoved an arm between me and the couch. He was pulling me into him and I was concentrating on not spilling any wine as he executed this maneuver.

I succeeded and was settling into my man to relax with him, wine and candles when we heard, “Auntie Mara?”

Mitch and I both twisted our necks to look over the back of the couch. When we did, we saw Billy standing just outside the shadows at the mouth of the hall.

“Yeah, honey?” I called back.

Billy held my eyes.

Then he announced, “Billie looks like you.”

I didn’t know where he was going with this but I answered with the truth. “Yes, she does, Bud.”

“Do you think I look like Mitch?” Billy asked.

Oh God.

Oh God.

“Yes,” I answered softly.

“That woman at that restaurant, she said we had a beautiful family,” Billy reminded me and Mitch’s arm around me grew tight.

“She did,” I told him. “And we didn’t get it then but she was right.”

Billy kept hold of my eyes then his shifted to Mitch before they moved to the floor and he asked, “Mitch, you marry Auntie Mara, can Billie and me have your name?”

Oh God!

God, God, God!

“You want it then absolutely,” Mitch replied.

I started deep breathing.

Billy’s eyes came back to me.

Then, even though he whispered it, I heard him when he said, “You should know, I love you too, Auntie Mara.”

Then he disappeared in the shadows.

My breath hitched again and this time I didn’t succeed in holding back the thousands of tears. Luckily, I did succeed in not bursting into loud ones, just lots of silent ones.

Mitch divested me of my wineglass, I burrowed into him and when he’d put my glass by his beer on the coffee table, he pulled me into both of his arms.

It took some time but I pulled myself together.

Then I whispered into his neck, “I love you Detective Mitchell James Lawson.”

Mitch’s arms gave me a squeeze. “I know, baby. I love you too.”

“That was done well, honey.” I shifted to kiss his throat then tilted my head back to look at him to find he’d tipped his down to look at me. “Thank you.”

“Anytime and every time, sweetheart,” Mitch replied.

I liked that.

Anytime and every time, now and throughout our lives with our family.

Again, my soul sighed but my mouth smiled.

“Proud as hell of you, what you did earlier with your mother and aunt,” Mitch told me.

My smile got bigger and I informed him, “Just so you know, your kiss communicated that.”

Mitch smiled back at me. “Right.”

“Something else you should know,” I whispered. “I was able to do that because of you.”

“Mara –” he started but I shook my head and pressed deeper into him.

“No, it was in me to say it but it was you who opened my eyes to who I am. I’ve always been a decent person and even if you weren’t standing there, I’d do everything I could to make certain I kept those kids safe. But it felt good standing there with you. It felt good realizing that was who I am and who I always was. And it felt good to move beyond what I believed myself to be. And you guided me there. So…” I grinned and pressed even closer, “thank you.”

Mitch dipped his head and against my lips whispered, “You’re welcome, baby.”

Against his, my grin became a smile.

Mitch brushed his mouth against my smile, pulled back half an inch and noted, “I’m done with heavy. Time to zone out in front of a game.”

Zoning out on the couch with Mitch, wine, candles and baseball.

The perfect end to an (almost) perfect day.

“Right,” I whispered. Mitch grinned then in thirty seconds the TV was on, Mitch’s boots were off, he had me tucked between his reclined body and the couch, my wineglass in one hand, my cheek on his chest, his arm around my back, hand curved around my hip, his beer in his other hand.

I sipped wine and zoned out.

Mitch sipped beer and watched the game.

Yes.

The perfect end to an (almost) perfect day.

Me, Mitch, wine, beer, baseball and, sleeping in the next room, Billy and Billie.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Rain Always Stops

Two days later…

I was dressed for work because I was going to work after.

Tight, light beige pencil skirt. Cute, light peach blouse. High-heeled, tan slingback pumps. My hair pulled back in a twisted bun at the nape of my neck.

Mitch liked the way I dressed for work; he told me he thought it was sexy though he didn’t like me selling mattresses to men dressed that way. Most nights, however, I had four mouths to feed. He kicked in feeding those mouths so he understood the need.

I was sitting at the little desk. Mitch, like last time, was standing behind me.

I was not nervous. I was not worried. I had no idea where the money would come from to pay for the meeting with the lawyer we had yesterday and the work he would do in the coming months. And I had no idea what reaction I was imminently going to get.

I also didn’t care.

I’d find the money and the man who was about to get bad news didn’t deserve my nerves or worry.

The buzzer sounded and I felt Mitch’s tension at my back as my head turned toward the door.

Mitch, unlike me, was concerned. But his concern was about me. I told him I was okay but he didn’t believe me.

He would see he had nothing to worry about.

I watched Bill in his orange jumpsuit and white t-shirt move through the door.

He looked thinner but he had better coloring and a decent haircut. Apparently, they had barbers in jail. Or, at least, they had them and they were probably free so Bill availed himself since he didn’t have to make the taxing decision on whether to use his money on a haircut or filth to inject in his system.