“Dre!” Blake screams from the yard.

Oh my God! “I’m coming, I’m coming, Jesus.”

“I’m not Jesus, but…”

“Blake, if you finish that sentence…” warns Claire.

I take the steps from the porch two at a time and meet him in the grassy yard. Blake and his cousins, who are at least half his age, are playing some modified game of tag that doesn’t make any sense at first glance. But when one of the curly-haired boys touches me, the other kids gasp.

“You’re the monster now!” says a girl with half her teeth missing.

“The what?”

“The monster, Andre,” Blake says, not clarifying things at all. “Come on, learn the rules. You know. The monster.”

The girl pulls back and starts running wildly, with no reasonable pattern to her movements. The other kids do the same thing.

“This is what you called me over for?”

Blake crosses his arms over his chest in that indignant way and scoffs. “I’ll have you know, Monster is a very important game.”

Before I can say anything, his arms slip around my waist, and he pulls me close. Our lips collide and find their familiar place against one another. It’s been ten months, and his kisses still make me shiver.

“You never have a problem when I’m a monster in bed,” he whispers against me.

“Blake!” I roar, shoving him to put some space between us before lunging at him, aiming my hands at the secret ticklish spots I’ve learned over the life of our relationship. Smirking, he jumps just out of reach. I don’t need him to tell me that my cheeks are burning. I can feel it.

Thank God for being Black.

“I’m going to get you, Blake,” I growl playfully, taking a step forward.

“Before you do whatever it is you’re going to do to my son, which I fully endorse, by the way, can you come upstairs, Andre?” Claire says from the top of the steps. She’s leaning against the railing, her sundress billowing, a faint smile on her face.

“Mom! You’d be Andre’s accomplice?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says and winks. “Andre?”

“Coming.” I turn to Blake as I walk backward. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles, blowing a kiss.

“Never with you.”

I stop for a moment, kissing Mom on the cheek before heading inside. I know the McIntyre house like the back of my hand now, having spent almost 140 days here in the past ten months. Claire leads me down the hallway and into the study, sliding the cherry doors closed behind me.

“I just wanted to take a moment for the two of us,” she smiles, gesturing to the couch. It’s the same couch I sat on the first time I came here. “Thirsty?”

“Water is fine. I wouldn’t be here without you, you know.”