Page 24 of Acting on Instinct
“I’d be happy to help. That sounds like a lot of fun, actually. Did you have something in mind?”
“I was thinking about a piece of jewelry. Maybe a necklace,” Ty said.
“A necklace is nice, but she can’t see it unless she’s looking in the mirror. Would you consider a bracelet or a ring? That way, when she’s going about her day, she can see it and think of you,” Kira suggested.
“Do I want her thinking of me that often?” Ty leaned down to kiss her.
“The gift isn’t for you. It’s for your mother. And my friends who are mothers—” She paused to take a deep breath. “London, for example. London loves to wear her charm bracelet with the little photo frames of her baby. It was a very sweet gift.”
“William gave that to her?” Ty asked, looking like he didn’t believe it.
“No, Lula brought it to her when London was still in the hospital to remind her that she had a reason to fight for her life.” Kira picked up the bun and took a bite. She held her hand in front of her mouth so she could add, “I’m going to see Lula this afternoon.” She chewed and swallowed. “She’s in Durham and is stopping by.”
Yes, she did notice when Ty’s brows pulled together, and his eyes grew stormy.
“It’s a quick visit. But you know,” Kira changed the subject, “now that I’m thinking about it, a bracelet wouldn’t be a good idea for your mom. She told me she doesn’t like things on her wrists. She once told me that when she started carrying a phone with a clock on it, she was relieved because she wasn’t irritated by her watch band anymore.”
“Noted. No bracelet,” Ty said.
“But she does always have the prettiest decorative fingernails, and she does like to wear rings. We could look and see. I have friends who own a jewelry shop that I like very much. They don’t carry items that you can find just anywhere. He buys estate pieces and pieces made by local artists.”
“Kira,” Ty said softly. “I have a soldier’s salary.”
“I understand that. You set the budget before we go, and if we find something that works, we buy it there, and if not, we look elsewhere.” She lifted the bun and savored the rich yeasty bite.
Ty moved into the kitchen and made himself a breakfast of cheesy eggs with some of her leftover vegetables while Kira moved to the kitchen table with the newspaper.
It was a normal breakfast.
Kira handed Ty the sports and international sections. She was looking through the arts page. They read as they ate and sipped out of their humongous coffee mugs that Ty insisted were supposed to be soup bowls.
Rory lay under the table where Kira placed a folded blanket, so the hard kitchen floor didn’t aggravate his arthritis.
Ty would read something to her, and then she would read something to him.
He folded the paper and laid it on the table, then got up to clear the dishes and wash up.
By most measures, this breakfast was their norm.
But Kira felt like she was hovering in the corner, looking down at the scene of a loving couple being domestic.
And though they were a loving couple, and they were being domestic, it felt like a farce, a dream. Soon it would be morning when the alarm would jangle her awake, and she’d be facing a new reality.
“Kira,” Ty said, walking back into the room. “You okay?”
Kira realized that she’d been staring at her blank wall. She twitched her head to face him, cleared her throat, plastered on a smile, and said, “Daydreaming.” She stood up and took a step toward him.
“Did you have something you wanted to do after breakfast before we go out?”
The tinnitus in her ear was a soft whistle. Her nose began to buzz, and she reached up to rub the sensation away.
She came up on her toes, wrapping her arms around Ty’s neck.
When she kissed him, he smelled of men’s soap, warm and spicy. It worked with the taste of his kiss, bitter from the coffee and sweet with cinnamon. She loved the softness of his lips, their warmth. She liked how he kissed her, as if he had all the time in the world, and that was the only thing he wanted to do.
When the kiss did end, Kira sent Ty a flick of her brow and a saucy smile.
His voice dropped low as he rumbled, “Yes, ma’am.” And he scooped her into his arms. “At your service.”
