Page 49 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)
Logan
When Eva woke up and saw me at the island waiting for her, the surprise on her face was worth it. I had her coffee made, a legitimate breakfast waiting for her, and a full day planned for us. And she knew none of it.
“You know, if you keep taking off work, you’re going to lose your job,” she commented as she sat next to me.
“What’s the point in having accumulated all my days off if I never use them?” I countered. “I also have an obscene amount of sick days as well.”
This year was the first time I was utilizing my vacation time. In all my years at the firm, I rarely took time off—something that was no longer a point of pride. I’d missed out on a lot of time with my wife in the name of work.
“As long as it doesn’t affect your work,” Eva replied. She took a long sip of her coffee, sighing with satisfaction in a way that made me smile.
“My time off was approved, my clients are taken care of, and I have a whole plan for us today,” I told her. That last part gave her pause. Leaning close, I kissed her temple. “Day dates are absolutely an acceptable way to date my wife.”
“You planned that awfully fast,” she murmured, and I smiled. “You look proud of yourself.”
I w as. I threw out our old playbook and started from scratch. Dating her all over again meant doing right by who we were now, and honestly, trying to come up with something new had been a blast.
“Eat up, honey,” I said. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
I took her to one of those pottery painting places, except this one specialized in kids’ birthdays.
That meant instead of doing bowls or pots or mugs or something, we were about to paint a fuck ton of little clay statues.
And I did mean a fuck ton because I rented out the place and pretty much bought every little statue they had.
The staff didn’t know what to do with me when I called.
We had approval for wine and snacks and whatever music we wanted.
“I don’t know!” Eva exclaimed. She set her phone down and sighed. “It’s such a big choice.”
“It’s a music playlist, honey,” I replied, chuckling. She sat at the biggest table they had, trying to figure out what music to play, while I moved every little statue they had to the table for us to paint.
“It sets the whole mood!”
“And if we don’t like the mood, then we can change it.” I shrugged. I held up three tiny statues for her to see. “Look at the tiny dragons.”
“The dragons!” She squealed and held out her hands for them, wiggling her fingers. That bright smile that lit up her face was absolutely stunning. So naturally, I loaded our table up with every single dragon in the place until she and I were surrounded by a herd of dragons. Horde of dragons?
“What’s a collection of dragons called?” I asked.
I scooted my stool next to hers. Together, we filled plastic plates with puddles of paint.
Mine looked like shit—the color would probably be the same as shit by the time I was done because all my colors were bleeding together at the edges.
Meanwhile, Eva was meticulous as always with how she divided her colors between numerous plates.
She did it so mindlessly, and it fascinated me to no end.
So did the way she lined up her paint brushes by size.
And yes, she had multiple paintbrushes. Me? I had one because that was all I’d need, right? My wife was about to show me up in dragon painting, and I was okay with it. More than okay.
“ I’m not sure anyone has ever come up with a one-size-fits-all term for it, considering dragons are fictional,” Eva replied.
Leaning on the table, she started typing on her phone.
Her shoulder bumped mine to get my attention.
“See here? We’ve got a thunder of dragons…
a flight of dragons… a horde, a flock, a gaggle, a tribe, a clan…
this guy here is trying to pass off the term schlong.
People on the internet will say all sorts of shit. ”
“A schlong of dragons?” I snorted. I poked through the different dragons, trying to decide where to start. We had silly ones, cute ones, serious ones, ones with books, ones with coins, and even one with a cat. Why were there so many kinds of dragons? “And here we have our schlong of dragons.”
“Can you imagine Elliot coming over and we introduce him to our schlong of dragons?” she asked.
“He’d probably think we meant something kinky,” I told her. “Like…”
“Like we bought some kind of dragon dildo.” She smiled deviously. I wanted to ask her if that was a thing, but I also didn’t want to know if it was.
“He’d probably think our sex life finally got interesting.”
“He called our sex life a saltine cracker.” What the hell?
“He thinks I should fuck you over the dining room table,” I admitted quietly, my gaze glancing to the staff briefly. They were far enough away that we had privacy. Thank God.
“I agree. You should fuck me over the dining room table.” She stopped painting to glance over at me, arching a brow suggestively. “Or you could lay me out and have me for dessert.”
“Eva!” I choked on my spit, but she merely shrugged.
“We have a beautiful table, Logan,” Eva continued. “It’d be a shame not to use it for all its capacity.”
“Duly noted,” I whispered and filed that away for things to add to our checklist of dating adventures, because why not? We were adults. “How does one paint a dragon?”
“However you want,” she said. “I’m making mine a coordinated set.”
“I think I’m just going to try to make it look presentable,” I admitted. I wasn’t sure I could do much else.
Within an hour, I was folded over the table in concentration as I tried to get all the different colors in the right spots. Who in their right mind thought a kid could be this attentive to detail? There were so many itty bitty little nooks and crannies to color.
“ Put your tongue away.” Eva giggled as she tapped the pad of her finger to my tongue, which was sticking out as I focused.
“Sorry.” I licked my lips and sat up a little taller. “Why are there so many little spots? Franklin is looking a little worse for wear over here.”
Yes, I named the damned statue Franklin. He needed a name.
“I love Franklin. I’m putting him in the kitchen,” she said with only the kind of pride my wife could have for my miserable-looking dragon figure. “Esther is looking fantastic. I’m making her purple to match Vera.”
“A pair of purple dragons named Esther and Vera,” I mused. “I like it.”
“You better,” she told me. “My old ladies are going in your office to judge you while you work.”
“I’ll need them to sign NDAs,” I teased, making her laugh.
She reached for her glass of wine and took a long sip.
For just a moment, something akin to doubt weaseled its way through me and ignited my anxiety.
Before I could stop myself, I asked, “You are having fun, right? I tried to think of something different… is this too different? Should I have toned it down a little?”
Eva pressed a finger to my lips, shutting me up. Her smile was soft and reassuring.
“Slay the tiny anxiety dragons, sweetheart,” she whispered. “This is perfect. I love it. And I am putting Franklin and our entire schlong of dragons on display for everyone to see because I love them so much.”
Yeah, anxiety gone at the mention of schlong. I laughed, unable to help it. It was so stupid.
“Okay,” I said. “But we’ve painted three dragons between the two of us in one hour. And really, mine’s only half a colored dragon at this point. We may have overshot how much we could paint today.”
“How long did you rent out the store for?” she asked, her gaze sliding over the collection of figures.
“All day, but they still close at five,” I told her.
“We may have to sacrifice some dragons,” she murmured with the utmost seriousness. “Or we can take the rest home and paint them together there. Still worth it.”
Oh, good.
“Here,” she swiped another dragon off the table, “paint me the one with cats. I want to put it on my nightstand.”
“For you, I’ll do two,” I replied and reached across the table for the matching one.
Onc e more, I ended up folded over the table with my tongue sticking out as I tried to pay attention to all the details. I lost myself in the moment with her—admiring her, laughing with her, and ultimately falling a little more in love with her.