That feel hit my eyes, and when it did, it hit simultaneously in my throat and my belly.

Merry’s face warmed.

He knew what I was feeling.

And he knew me, so he didn’t say shit about it.

He asked, “So, you gonna ask Feb for the day off?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna ask Feb for the day off.”

His hands stopped drifting on my back and he wrapped his arms around me. “Then I’ll get three tickets.”

I shoved my face in his neck and muttered, “That’d be cool, Merry.”

We lay there together, connected, a girl who never allowed herself to dream, lying on top of a dream come true.

When it was time, Merry slid me up to slide himself out of me. He shifted us. He shifted the covers. He went to the bathroom to deal with the condom. And he came back, shifting us so I was exactly where I’d been before he’d moved me.

Lying on top of a dream come true.

“Why Rivers?”

Merry asked that, and hearing it, I lifted my head to look at him again.

“Why what?”

“Rivers, baby. You could have picked any last name you wanted. I like it. It’s cool. But why’d you pick Rivers?”

I shrugged, dropped my head, and nuzzled my face in his throat again while giving him the simple answer.

“I like water.”

“You like water?”

I nodded against his neck and gave him more.

“Mom’s always been a waitress. Dad’s always been a deadbeat. She couldn’t give me a lot, but she tried to make sure every summer we went on vacation. Without any money, we didn’t go far and we didn’t have much. Shitty motels. Diner food. But she did her best. And she always found water. Driving us to some lake. Putting our asses on a Greyhound down to Florida and hitting some seedy hotel, but one that was on a beach. We didn’t give a shit it was seedy or cheap. I was an asshole to her, but not on vacation. We had fun. We relaxed. We forgot life sucked.”

I lifted my head to look at him and kept talking.

“Good times. The only really good times probably for the both of us that weren’t clouded by the shit of life or my bent to be a pain in her ass. So I like water. Maybe it’s because I just like water. But I think it’s because Mom busted her ass to give me those times and it means something to me because my mom means something to me. And because it reminds me she gave me the most important thing I ever got—all I need to be a good mom to the kid I got. I couldn’t call myself Cher Lake or Cher Ocean or Cher Beach. So I picked Rivers. It works.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It works.”

But the way he said that, my attention on him sharpened.

And when I saw what I was pretty sure I saw, I accused, “You’re plannin’ a vacation for you, me, Ethan, and maybe even my mom somewhere near water, aren’t you?”

The faraway look in his eyes vanished and he smiled at me.

“Caught,” he whispered.

God, it had happened.

No, it kept happening.

I’d hoped. For the first time I’d hoped—hoped I was wrong that life couldn’t get better.

And he kept proving me wrong.

“You’re never gonna get a new house at this rate,” I warned.

“Yeah, I am,” he replied. “Shower sex with you is fantastic. Sink sex with you is out of this fuckin’ world. But you only got one bathroom in your pad and your boy is right next door to that and right across the hall from your room. And when you and Ethan come for sleepovers, I’m good with getting creative but not a big fan of having my options limited. So at least one of us needs a house that offers me options. Since it’s doubtful you can even disassemble your tribute to the flower generation and reassemble it in a new place, much less wanna do that, it’s up to me to find it. And a man will go to great lengths for options, which include the possible option of future vacation sex.”

“You’re gonna break the bank in order to secure fuck options?” I asked.

“Am I a man?”

“Yes.”

“Then do you realize that’s a stupid question?”

I started laughing. “Yes.”

“So I won’t bother answering it.”

I gave in to laughing.

As I was doing it, Merry joined me at the same time he rolled me so I had his weight and heat covering me.

When I was done, I slid a hand up his chest to cup his jaw.

“Prepare for gooey,” I warned.

His eyes were still lit with humor, but with my words, one side of his lips tipped up.

“Sock it to me.”

I didn’t delay in socking it to him.

“You don’t just make me happy, Merry. You keep making me happier.”

His face got warmer and more beautiful than ever.

“That’s the goal, brown eyes,” he whispered.

“You’re an overachiever,” I whispered back.

He didn’t reply.

He kissed me.

Then it was his turn to make love to me.

And there it was again.

Merry making me happier.

* * * * *

Garrett

Monday Morning

Garrett slid the pancakes he’d made in front of Ethan, who was sitting at the table.

He headed back to Cher’s stove.

Cher was at the countertop, bent over it, the ball of one foot resting on top of the other one, her eyes to a pad of paper on the counter.

“You’re still into the Star Wars theme?” she asked the paper, her question directed to her son.

“Yeah, Mom,” Ethan answered his pancakes, slathering butter on them.

“R2-D2 cake?” she went on, scribbling on the paper.

“Yep,” Ethan confirmed.

“Chocolate?” she kept going.

“Affirmative.” Ethan was now soaking his pancakes in syrup.

No.

Submerging them.

Watching that, Garrett felt his lips tip up before he turned his gaze to his woman. “How many pancakes you want, babe?”

“Two,” she muttered distractedly, still scribbling. “Thanks, gorgeous.”

He turned to the griddle and poured batter.

He was putting the bowl aside when he heard a noise like someone was shoving air with their tongue through clenched teeth.

He cut his gaze to Cher.

She was still bent over the counter but twisted to look down her side at him, her lips pressed together, eyes big, and she jerked her head.

He had no fucking clue what that was about.

He was going to learn.

She twisted back to look at her boy.

“Haven’t heard from your dad, kid.” She drew in breath and then offered, “You want me to give him a call? You’ve never invited him, Peg, and the kids, though they know about your extravaganzas and probably would wanna come. You think this year’s the year?”

That was what it was about. She needed him alert and at her back when she introduced something that might be tough to talk about with Ethan.

Or, more to the point, she needed him alert for Ethan.

Fuck, that felt good.

“Don’t call. Don’t care he comes or not,” Ethan muttered, shoving pancake in his mouth.

She gave it a few beats before she suggested, “It’s been a while, honey. Maybe you should give him a call.”

Ethan, chewing, looked to his mom and swallowed.

“It’s been a while, yeah. You think that’s long enough for him to learn not to be a loser?” he asked.

Garrett saw in profile as Cher bit her lip.

That meant no.

“Right,” Ethan said, and looked back to his pancakes. “Don’t care he’s not at my party. Really won’t care if he doesn’t give me a call. It’s not his birthday that’s comin’ up. He’s missed a bunch of mine. His choice whether he’s gonna miss more.”

“You did tell him you didn’t want to see them again,” she reminded her boy.

“If I told you that, would you leave me alone forever and ever?” Ethan returned.

Cher bit her lip again.

That time it meant not a fucking chance.

Yeah.

Ethan Rivers might be only nearly eleven, but he had his head screwed on straight.

Cher opened her mouth, but Garrett said quickly and quietly, “He’s right, baby.”

She twisted to look down her body at him again.