The Anti-Boyfriend(80)

He lowered himself to kiss my neck. “Are you okay?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

He cupped my cheek before taking my mouth with his again.

Then he pulled out and stood up, showcasing his gloriously naked body, the full condom tip hanging from his cock.

He ventured to the bathroom to dispose of it, then returned to the rug. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling my body into his.

I turned to meet his face. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

He drew me in closer. “Of course not. But on one condition.”

“What?”

“You let me take you to our favorite diner for lunch.”

I beamed. “That sounds good.”

I sat up and was just about to head to the bathroom when he wrapped his arm around my waist. “Come here,” he said, pulling me back for another kiss.

After he finally let me go, I took a long shower, relishing the masculine smell of his body wash. My insides ached in the best possible way.

Once out, I took my clothes into his room to change, where I noticed an open book face down on his desk. Down Syndrome Parenting 101. Another book sat next to it. The Everything Sign Language Book.

While I’d been stuck in limbo over whether to trust Deacon again, he’d been moving forward—learning and preparing for a life with us, whenever I was ready.



*



A week later, Deacon and I hadn’t spent a night apart since that day at his apartment.

One afternoon he offered to go on a Target run for me since Sunny wasn’t feeling well. She almost never got sick, but today she had a small fever.

One of the things on my lengthy, handwritten list was children’s pain reliever, since I was running out.

Deacon sent a text from the store.



Deacon: Is the generic brand really as good as the name brand?



Carys: It’s supposed to be the same thing.



The dots moved around.



Deacon: Okay.



A few minutes later, he sent another message.



Deacon: Not gonna risk it. Getting the name brand.



I smiled. The sweet and caring side beneath that masculine exterior never ceased to amaze me.



Carys: Okay.



Several minutes went by before he reached out again.



Deacon: What’s organic penis?



Carys: Huh?



He sent a photo of my handwriting.



Carys: That says organic peaches. Sorry for my chicken scratch.



Deacon: I was gonna say… ;-) Mine is totally organic, by the way. But got it. Peaches. Organic.



He followed that with five peach emojis.



Deacon: Ironically, the peach emoji represents ass. So you can imagine where my mind is going right now.



Next, he texted an eggplant emoji and a peach.



Carys: That reminds me, get an eggplant, too. Gonna try to make eggplant lasagna tomorrow.



Deacon: Yes, ma’am.



The texts stopped for a while. Then I received a photo of a black, lace thong draped over his hand.



Deacon: After all that talk of eggplants and peaches, I walked by the ladies’ underwear section, saw this, and pictured you in it, bent over in front of me. Now I’m fucking hard in the middle of Target.



Deacon: I need to get in line, but it’s not safe to leave this aisle at the moment.



Deacon: Shit! An old lady is looking for granny panties across from me, and I’m hiding in place with a stiffy.



I doubled over in laughter.



Deacon: I shit you not, I think the old lady just farted.



Deacon: Fuck my life.



Deacon: That’s it. I’m moving out of here. I’ve got the cart in front of me to hide my junk. And thanks to her, I’m not that hard anymore anyway.



Carys: Will you just come home before you get into trouble? LOL



Deacon: Heading home. With the thong. You. Me. Tonight. It’s on.



I sighed. We’d had our ups and down, but I really did love this man.



Deacon: By the way, you’re a size small in shirts, right?



Carys: Yes. Why?



Deacon: I got you something.



Carys: Uh-oh. Let me guess. Low-cut neckline?



He sent a photo of a plain, white, fitted T-shirt with a simple message on the front: I Heart My Boyfriend.



My face hurt from smiling.



Carys: You know, before we got together, I used to refer to you as the “Anti-Boyfriend.”



Deacon: Oh really? Well, the “Anti-Boyfriend” found the one.



I sighed.



Carys: Hurry back.



One more text came in about five minutes later.



Deacon: Picked you up a coffee from the Starbucks in here.



He sent a photo of the cup, which had a message written in black marker. At first, I thought it said, Carys Like Paris. But then I looked closer and realized he was getting me back for the peaches mistake earlier.