In the shower, she says, “I was going to say some homemade beans and franks, but the sex was better.” We fall into laughter and then start kissing. One thing always leads to another with her. When it comes to Lark, I’m the insatiable one.

After shutting off the lights and checking the locks, I settle back in bed next to her. She’s close to a deeper sleep, so I move to her and wrap my arm around her. I love this woman with all my heart. Yep, I’m the lucky one all right.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in the tranquility she brings, then quickly fall asleep wrapped around her.

* * *

I’m woken by the sound of pacing in the bedroom. Opening one eye and then the other, I find Lark near the window. “Hey,” I ask, my voice raspy with sleep. “What’s going on?”

She points across the room, and asks, “That’s what I’m wondering? What is that still doing in your possession?”

“What?” I twist to see a box in the dark near the bathroom. “What is it?”

“That’s what I’m wondering.”

I sigh and rub my eyes. Sitting up, I see the time—3:45 AM—and then slide my gaze lower across the room. From what I can make out, she’s in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. “Are you going to make me get out of bed?”

She bends to pick it up and then comes to sit next to me. “Ah,” I add. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“I thought you were going to tell me you’re pregnant or something.”

I earn a smile, although slight, for that. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she asks, her tone softening along with her annoyance.

Reaching over, I caress her cheek with the back of my fingers. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Leaning over, she gives me a kiss. “I love you.” She props back up. “Now, tell me why you still have this box, babe. I thought this was long gone. You know I never want to be anything like a Bensimone.” Her nickname for bitch is quite entertaining, especially since the country club revoked the Bensimones’ lifetime membership, and my mom booted her from the fundraising organization she runs.

I chuckle. “You should have just opened it back at graduation.”

“You know I don’t like ridiculously expensive gifts. What’s the point in spending so much on something that you need a security guard when using it?” I adore her big heart and how superficial stuff doesn’t matter, but it also makes it hard to buy her presents sometimes.

Rubbing her leg, I reply, “Not sure if you remember, but I sell ridiculously expensive cars as gifts all the time. Those cars paid for the penthouse and our little addition up here.”

Her shoulders round, and she sighs this time. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, but open it, baby. I might surprise you in a good way.”