My Better Life (A Soul Mates in Romeo Romance) by Sarah Ready

Author:Sarah Ready [Ready, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Swift & Lewis Publishing LLC
Published: 2022-07-18T18:30:00+00:00

19

Jamie

It’s only been three days since I implemented the no kisses rule and already I feel like a piece of glass glowing red hot, looping and bending in the heat, responding to every single thing Gavin does.

He smiles, I ache. He laughs, I shiver. He speaks, I go warm and flushed. He walks by me, not even touching me, but the air currents shifting feel like him stroking me and I…goodness. It’s torture.

When he reads to the kids at night, my heart melts and I can imagine a sculpture, a raspberry red heart blooming like honeysuckle, opening wide. I’d call it Gavin, you dog, why do you have to make me feel this way?

I slam the chess pie onto the counter and glare out the kitchen window. Gavin’s chasing the kids around the bases, in some strange version of baseball I’ve never seen before. His bright, happy laugh squeezes my insides and winds me so tight I think I might explode from wanting. His laugh pets me and covers me in need.

“I can’t take it anymore.” I blow my hair out of my eyes and turn to Gran and Diedre.

“Careful with that pie, you’ll ruin the custard.” Gran walks over and pokes at the sugary innards. She grunts in approval when she sees I didn’t destroy the glistening custard. I wouldn’t. Chess pie is a lot like glass. The eggs and sugar and butter melt together to form a glossy, smooth surface that melts and molds to form a beautiful piece of art. Mmm. Pie.

Diedre looks out the window. She frowns at Big Tom. He’s currently at the pitcher’s mound, winding up a throw for Elijah. Then Diedre fluffs her bottle-blonde hair, poofing up the big fat curls she ironed in and tugs down her crop top to show a little more cleavage. I narrow my eyes. Maybe she isn’t as indifferent to Tom as I thought.

“The pie’s fine.”

I jiggle it to make sure it’s done. Yup, cooked through. It’s Sunday dinner. We always have Sunday dinner at our place and invite Gran down.

This weekend Gavin said we should ask Big Tom over since he doesn’t have family, and then I suggested Diedre come along too. So, we’ve got pan fried chicken going, Gran’s minding it at the stove and the meaty, salty steam crackles and pops. I made cornbread this morning, and when Gavin gave me a sly smile and stole a chunk while it was on the cooling rack, I merely wagged my finger at him.

Then my stomach dipped, because he looked at my lips and I knew if I didn’t have that rule in place he’d be kissing me. Instead, he popped the cornbread in his mouth and winked.

Diedre finished up the turnip greens and tossed them in a bright yellow enamel bowl, and now she’s mashing the potatoes, stirring in enough butter to float a city. The iced tea is ready, flavored with fresh peaches, honey, and sugar.

We have a picnic table set up outside, with

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