Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(159)

Logan and I looked her way.

“I get you,” she said to me through her amusement. “And I get you,” she said to Logan, tamped down the mirth, and went on, “And I just realized something. You asked what would make me happy, High, and I’m good. I’m happy. But when I answered you, I didn’t know I’d get more of that happy knowing you’d finally got yours.”

“And there it is!” I declared, pointing my still loaded with unhealthy salad fork at her. “More cool.”

She burst into laughter again but this time did it while Logan chuckled.

I belatedly stuck my salad in my mouth and chewed.

When I was done chewing, I also had pulled myself together.

“I don’t know if Low’s told you this, but I’m a party planner so whatever you need for birthdays and such, I’m your go-to girl. Family discount. Meaning free,” I said to Deb.

“Perfect,” she replied.

“And just to say, I’m attempting a new recipe on Friday night. I haven’t decided what yet but whatever it is, it’s gonna be awesome. When you drop off the girls, you should consider staying.”

“Got no plans,” she replied. “I’d love to.”

I grinned, then noted, “Your handbag is the bomb.”

“Stella McCartney,” she told me.

I stabbed salad, smiling at her. “I pegged that. Saks?”

“Neiman’s.”

“This season?” I asked.

“Yep,” she answered.

I turned my attention to my salad, murmuring, “Quick trip to the mall before going back to work.”

“If you do, there was an Alexander McQueen clutch, black, skull clasp, rhinestones for eyes. I have absolutely no reason to own it but since I saw it I can’t get it off my mind. I’ll give you my number. If it’s still there, text me. I’ll swing by this weekend.”

“I’ll text,” I told her, then asked, “You want me to put it on hold?”

“That’d be great.”

“Now, I want someone to drill a bullet in my gut,” Logan groused.

Both Deb and I looked to Logan. He looked mildly annoyed at our lapsing into girl talk and less mildly bored as he shoved an entire piece of buttered corn bread in his mouth.

At that, it was my turn to burst out laughing.

And I was tickled pink when Deb laughed with me.

*  *  *

“Babe!” Logan bellowed.

I moved to the door of the laundry room, which was perhaps five feet from where I’d been while in the laundry room, and when I stopped I was perhaps three feet from where Logan stood at the back door, bellowing.

“I’m right here,” I told him.

He turned to me. “You hear my bike in the drive?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But I was separating colors.”

“You greet me,” he declared.

“I...” I shook my head. “Sorry?”

“I come home, you greet me. Since we been back, I come home, you’re waitin’,” he stated.

This was true. If I heard his bike or truck, I was often waiting in the kitchen, close to the back door. But if not, I was in eyesight and my attention was on him coming in said back door and as soon as I could, I made my way there.

“I’d never been separating laundry when you got home,” I explained.

“Millie, I come home, you greet me.”

These words were firm.

These words were a demand.

“You’re being bossy.”

My words were a warning.

“I come home, you greet me,” he repeated.

“The annoying kind,” I went on.

“I get home, babe, you greet me.”

I stiffened.

Because I got it.

Then I walked the three feet separating us as I said quietly, “I’m right here, Snooks. In the laundry room, doing our laundry.”

He reached to me, one arm around me pulling me closer, one hand sifting his fingers into the side of my hair.

In return, I slid my arms around his middle.

We held each other for a few beats before he spoke.

“Maybe never get used to havin’ you back,” he said. “Maybe never get used to comin’ home to you again. Like it when your eyes are to the door, tellin’ me you’re glad I’m home. Maybe won’t need that forever. Just sayin’, I need it now.”

And I needed to hang on. Hang on to the words Kellie told me. Hang on to rejoicing in the now. Doing that and not sliding into getting stuck on remembering all we’d lost and how that affected both of us.

“Then I’ll give it to you,” I told him.

“Thanks, beautiful,” he replied, bending his neck to give me a swift kiss before he let me go to shrug off his cut.

“You want a beer?” I asked.

“Yup,” he answered.

I went to the fridge.

When I’d popped his beer, I saw him at the kitchen island.

“Got your purse,” he said, his eyes coming to me.

The purse, the same one Deb had at lunch but mine electric blue, was on the island.

I grinned at him and brought his beer to him.

“Yup,” I answered.

He took the beer, then tapped the other things on the island.