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And it is all it takes.

My release is explosive.

An ocean landing into a small cup. Spilling up and splashing over the edges, over and over again.

And I convulse. My body writhing in my pleasure.

I can feel Kale fill me, curling over my back as he does.

He finally lets the vibrator fall, and he uses his hand instead to force me back.

“I love you, Cinnamon.” His voice is guttural. He seems to completely ignore Orzo’s cum as he captures my lips. As he imprints his love into me.

He releases my lips, but not me. His hot skin a comfort against my back.

“I—I—” There’s embarrassment beginning to take hold. But a stronger feeling bubbles up again, just as it had with Reuben. “I love you too.” It’s the truth.

No matter how insane. How quickly. I know the feeling is real.

Just as I know potatoes are always delicious.

That cinnamon heightens most meals.

And that Orzo is staring at us in annoyance.

Orzo continues to watch us in silence, not separating or tugging us apart.

Before I can say or do anything else, the bedroom door slams open.

“Sherry is on her way up,” Reuben offers with a raised brow, appraising our naked forms. “Might want to get dressed.”

***

Fidgeting under her gaze, I get up from the desk. We’re in what must be Reuben’s office, and I focus instead on exploring.

The plate on his bookshelf.

The stained carpet.

The expansive window that looks down on the city.

“Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into if you marry him? If you join into the family as a Barley?”

I turn back to Sherry. She hasn’t moved, following me with her eyes.

“My mom chose to run from it,” I offer with a shrug. “Doesn’t seem like it made her much safer.”

“Your mother publicly shamed a man with a Napoleon complex and an insane brother. She threw oil onto a forest fire and stood in the middle expecting not to get burned,” Sherry returns.

In the sun, it’s easier to see that Sherry is a grandmother. Her once strawberry hair is now plaited with gray. The crows feet are etched deeply, even her lips have not withstood the test of time.

But all of the wrinkles, the carvings—they were made by too many smiles, by laughter.

Living with her, our relationship… It was what kept me going. What gave me the confidence to believe in myself.

Every warm word that filled me, that grew my confidence was placed by her.

“My father?” I ask.