“I come bearing gifts on this picture-perfect spring day,” Damon says mock-formally, and bows. He steps through the doorway of the Gingerbread Café, brandishing an almighty postal tube like a sword. My heartbeat quickens at the sight of him. His wavy hair is lit by the sunshine behind casting a golden glow over him, like a spotlight. My only employee, CeeCee, fluffs her curls, before giving him a great big launch hug that nearly knocks him off his feet and makes him groan with delight. She’s a b...ig bundle of southern exuberance, and is more like a friend and mother-figure to me. “And pray tell, what is it?” she asks, pointing to the plain white packaging. “Well, it’s not a shrilling turkey, let’s just say that.” He winks. I smile and glance over at the cash register where the God-awful bright yellow shrilling turkey he gave me at Christmas sits, like a mascot. Damon walks to me and lands a soft kiss on my cheek. Woozy, that’s how I feel when he’s near me. I go jelly-legged and google-eyed, not my best look.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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