I’m shocked when his dad wraps me up in another hug. I never expected such a warm and enthusiastic greeting. All of my nervousness seems silly now. Dinner is great. Trudy and Alan regale me with stories of Amos as a boy and how much trouble he and my best friend’s husband, Torin, got into. I can tell both Amos and Trudy are happy that Alan is having such a good day. He’s completely lucid and happily talking about the past like it was just yesterday. I was warned that the days are rarely all good and to be prepared for his confusion.
The evening flies by, and before I know it, I’m hugging Trudy and Alan goodbye, and Amos is walking me out to my car.
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” he asks grumpily.
“I don’t want to give your parents the wrong idea about me. Right now, I’m the girlfriend. If I stay the night, that could change. What if your parents think I’m a hussy?”
He laughs at that. “First of all, who even says ‘hussy’ anymore?”
I stomp my foot and cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t tease me!”
He pulls me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “Sorry, sweets. I just hate not spending the night with you in my arms.”
“Me too. I want to stay, I do, but I just can’t risk your parents thinking less of me. I want them to like me… in case this thing blows up.”
He growls at that. “Nothing is going to blow up with us unless you consider explosive orgasms blowing up, then yes, we’ll be blowing up over and over.”
I shiver at the reminder of how we are together. He’s not wrong about the whole exploding thing. Every time is epic. Heck, it gets better with every time we have sex. Our chemistry is off the charts.
He opens my car door and kisses me so fiercely I’m panting by the time he pulls away. I know what he’s doing. He’s showing me exactly what I’m going to be missing by leaving. As if I don’t already know.
“Text me when you get home, sweets.”
It’s easy to agree, even easier to give in to another kiss. My entire body is on fire with need as I pull out of his drive and head home. My house is empty and feels cold without Amos’ presence in it. He’s the kind of guy that fills up a space. Not obtrusively. It’s just a feeling of security and a lack of aloneness. I miss him immediately and completely.
I take a lonely shower—something else that I rarely do anymore—and crawl under my blankets, alone. I sleep fitfully, missing Amos’ warm weight against my back. It worries me a little that I’m so attached after only two weeks. We went from zero to one hundred, but it doesn’t feel like it. Everything is so comfortable between us that it feels natural.
Waking up isn’t any better than going to sleep alone. It doesn’t help that I laid wide awake for hours. I feel a bit like a zombie. Coffee does nothing to wake me up. Somehow, I know that a dose of Amos will help wake me up, unlike my coffee. I grab all of my stuff and head into work.
My phone dings as soon as I get to the bakery. I smile, knowing it’s going to be Amos telling me to lock up. My heart flutters when I read the message: Lock up, sweetness. I miss you.
I miss you too. I couldn’t sleep without you.
I have an ‘oh crap’ moment when I realize what I just sent him, but then realize I don’t care if it’s too soon in our relationship to mention things like that. Not with Amos. He’s not the type to freak out over feelings.
Likewise, love. I don’t like being apart from you.
I thought I liked being his sweetness? Being his love? Wow. Yeah, that does something to me that I never thought I’d feel. Butterflies swarm my stomach, my heart is racing, and I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. All the sleepiness disappears, and I’m floating on cloud nine.
No, he didn’t say he loves me… but as far as I’m concerned, that’s step one. I’m pretty sure I’m already on step three or four. Well, if there were steps to follow to get to such a strong emotion.
I’m so distracted that I burn two trays full of muffins and have to do them again. It’s entirely unlike me to let anything distract me from my baking, but Amos is undoubtedly a worthy distraction if ever there were one.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I ask Leanne for the tenth time.
She rolls her eyes. “Margo, I’ve got this. I’ve been here for months. You can trust me to do one morning shift.”
“Oh, honey, I do trust you. I just… it’ll be the first morning since I opened that I’m not the one here.”
Her eyes turn soft as understanding dawns on her. “I get it. It’s hard to let go a little when something is so important to you. I promise everything will be fine. Go enjoy the morning with your boyfriend and his parents. That’s way more important than giving Mr. Phizer his black coffee and bran muffins.”
We both laugh at that. I make those muffins just for him. He comes every Saturday to pick up the entire dozen. It’s the most boring thing that I make. I mean, they are delicious because I don’t bake anything that doesn’t have a little pizazz, but they are definitely not the strawberry cream cheese muffins or the triple chocolate chunk muffins that taste like sin.
“Okay, well, if you need anything, just call…”
“Go!” Leanne says, waving me away. “I swear I’ll be fine. Sprinkled With Sugar will run just fine without you for a morning.”
