The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(81)

My head dropped of its own accord and then planted itself in Toby’s chest.

“Jesus, Addie,” he repeated on a whisper.

I saw the first tear land and wet my jeans with a dark dot.

My shoulders heaved with the effort of holding more of that wet back.

“Jesus, baby,” he said softly.

Then I was up in his arms and we were out of the bathroom, and I was down again, held close to him, his back against his headboard, me in his lap and tight to his chest.

He’d carried me to a bed before, once, when Perry tore me apart.

And damned if it didn’t happen again, months later, when Toby put me back together.

Damn.

I couldn’t stop it.

I tilted my head back, shoved my face in his neck and sobbed.

“Addie, honey,” he cooed, “you’re ruining your makeup.”

“I do-don’t care,” I wailed.

“Okay,” he murmured, holding me with one arm, running his fingers through my hair with his other hand.

“I-I-I’m gonna try just once, for Christmas, with Perry. If he doesn’t pick up or call back, I’m done with him.”

“Okay, Addie.”

“He-he’s got a dad. He might not have his father. But Brooks has already got a dad.”

“Yeah.”

That easy answer made my body hitch painfully, I shoved deeper into his neck, and cried harder.

“It’s not that big a deal, honey. He’s not a hard kid to love,” Toby murmured soothingly.

That made me yank my face out of his neck and put it in his.

“Yeah? So where’s his father?”

“Okay, baby.”

“Perry’s never fed him breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Perry’s never shoved that thing down with his boot that locks his stroller.”

“Okay.”

“Perry’s never given him a bite of his caramel cashew chocolate cluster.”

Toby shoved my face back in his throat and crooned, “Okay, baby. Okay, Addie. Just calm down and cry it out. Hmm, honey?”

My breath snagged about fifteen times as I drew it in to try to calm down. It hurt, so I stopped trying, just cried it out, and eventually that calmed me down.

“You good?” Toby asked when I was down to snuffling.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Take the job. You’re probably gonna be livin’ here sometime in the next few months anyway. Means expenses will take a dive and it’s all gonna be okay.”

God, that made me so happy.

For so many reasons.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“You got ties to the acres I gotta worry about?”

“Your house is dope, Toby. And it matches my bathroom accessories better.”

He chuckled and gathered me closer.

I lifted my head out of his neck and caught his eyes.

“Sorry I got all hysterical.”

“You let him go and you finally came to understand how in I am with you, and the only woman I ever saw who loved her children like you love Brooks was Margot, so I reckon that kinda thing would bring on some hysterics.”

I nodded, once again happy that Toby had it going on and was so wise.

“Waterproof mascara?” he asked.

“Did it hold up?”

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Addie. Normally. Dolled up. In the morning without makeup. Taking my cock. Coming. And also crying. Prettiest crier I ever saw.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, grinning at him.

He grinned back but declared, “I’m not joking.”

I lifted a hand, ran it down his beard at his cheek, tugged at the end and said, “I love you loads, Talon McHotterson.”

“And I love you loads back, Lollipop McGorgeouson.”

I started laughing slow, more, more, until I was giggling myself sick in his arms.

McGorgeouson.

My guy was funny.

Toby held me in his arms while I did it, smiling at me.

Eventually, we had to get up so I could see if he was correct about the damage, we could celebrate my new job, I could phone Izzy and share (also telling her I might need to raid her wardrobe for a while, not to mention check in on my kid) and we could start the Christmas festivities with a new friend.

So we did that.

But I did it thinking it was the second-best day of my life.

Though there was something uniquely special about it.

And this was the fact I knew, after all that, the entire day, from waking up to Toby, to Margot and the wedding boards, to the crib and changing table, to the revelation of how in Toby was with Brooklyn and me, those kinds of days would keep coming.



“Oh my God! You are my hero!” Lora shouted the minute she saw us walk into her cute, crackerbox house in town.

She then started clapping.

And she was looking at Toby.

“What the fuck?” Toby said under his breath to me.

Lora came our way, still clapping but ended it with her palms together, brought her hands to her forehead, and she did a few half bows to him before she stopped.

“Uh, hey, Lora, Merry Christmas,” I said, offering her the bottle of wine with a big bow that we brought.

Toby had the red cellophane bag with the last quarter pound of our nut clusters (a difficult gift to give up, for all of us) tied in a green bow.