<span id="kobo.7.1">‘Y<span id="kobo.8.1">our shower gel smells<span id="kobo.9.1"> amazing,’ I said, sniffing my skin after stepping out into the bathroom. <span id="kobo.9.2">“I’d love to know the brand.” <span id="kobo.9.3">He had one of those cool dispensers, so I couldn’t tell what it was.
<span id="kobo.10.1">He opened a drawer under the sink, taking out a bottle. <span id="kobo.10.2">‘You can take it with you if you want.’
<span id="kobo.11.1">‘Really? <span id="kobo.11.2">Thanks.’
<span id="kobo.12.1">He held out a robe for me. <span id="kobo.12.2">I immediately dropped the towel that I’d used to pat myself dry and slid on the robe.
<span id="kobo.13.1">‘This is so fluffy and smells like you. <span id="kobo.13.2">Will you put one on too?’
<span id="kobo.14.1">‘No, I only have this one.’
<span id="kobo.15.1">‘You don’t have to give it to me,’ I protested, about to take it off, but he pushed it right back into ce, tying the belt too.
<span id="kobo.16.1">‘No,’ he said. <span id="kobo.16.2">‘You’ll get cold with just a towel. <span id="kobo.16.3">I want you to befortable.’
<span id="kobo.17.1">How was this sex god such a decent human being? <span id="kobo.17.2">The whole evening had been amazing. <span id="kobo.17.3">I kept wanting to pinch myself.
<span id="kobo.18.1">I yawned as I put the shower gel on one of the open shelves next to the mirror. <span id="kobo.18.2">“Let’s hope I don’t forget to take this when I leave.”
<span id="kobo.19.1">He leaned into me, bringing his mouth to my ear. <span id="kobo.19.2">‘If you do, you’re more than wee toe back and grab it. <span id="kobo.19.3">In fact, I don’t mind if you forget it on purpose. <span id="kobo.19.4">It would give you a reason toe back.’
<span id="kobo.20.1">He wants me toe back! <span id="kobo.20.2">Hell yes!
<span id="kobo.21.1">I turned to him, trying to smile, but ended up yawning again.
<span id="kobo.22.1">‘Come on, let’s go to bed,’ he urged. <span id="kobo.22.2">‘You’re tired.’
<span id="kobo.23.1">‘Actually… <span id="kobo.23.2">I’m a bit hungry.’
<span id="kobo.24.1">‘You didn’t eat much. <span id="kobo.24.2">Didn’t you like the dinner?’
<span id="kobo.25.1">‘I did. <span id="kobo.25.2">But I was a bit nervous, and I didn’t have an appetite.’
<span id="kobo.26.1">‘Because of me?’ <span id="kobo.26.2">he asked with a wry smile.
<span id="kobo.27.1">I tapped my lips, trying not to grin. <span id="kobo.27.2">‘Let me think. <span id="kobo.27.3">Maybe it was because of the hot waiter who kept bringing us weird drinks.’ <span id="kobo.27.4">His eyes turned cold at that. <span id="kobo.27.5">‘Of course it was because of you.’
<span id="kobo.28.1">But he didn’t rx right away. <span id="kobo.28.2">He kept scrutinizing my face as if searching for signs that I was telling him the truth.
<span id="kobo.29.1">‘Come on, I’ll feed you,’ he said finally.
<span id="kobo.30.1">‘What’s your favorite delivery around here?’
<span id="kobo.31.1">‘I’ll find something for you in the fridge.’
<span id="kobo.32.1">My eyes widened. <span id="kobo.32.2">‘What? <span id="kobo.32.3">You have food?’
<span id="kobo.33.1">‘Why the surprise?’
<span id="kobo.34.1">‘I don’t know. <span id="kobo.34.2">You just don’t strike me as the type who has any food at home.’
<span id="kobo.35.1">Heughed. <span id="kobo.35.2">‘Believe it or not, I actually cook. <span id="kobo.35.3">Learned it from Dad. <span id="kobo.35.4">He said that early in his rtionship with my mom, he realized that if he didn’t want to eat burned or uncooked food for the rest of his life, he’d better take over.”
<span id="kobo.36.1">‘Oh, that’s so cute,” I said. <span id="kobo.36.2">My heart was happy hearing him talk about his parents. <span id="kobo.36.3">‘Your parents sound wonderful.’
<span id="kobo.37.1">‘They are. <span id="kobo.37.2">Dad said he never truly had the heart to tell her that she was a terrible cook, so instead he simply took the reins in the kitchen.’
<span id="kobo.38.1">‘How long ago did she pass away?’ <span id="kobo.38.2">I asked.
<span id="kobo.39.1">‘Four years.”
<span id="kobo.40.1">‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
<span id="kobo.41.1">He took my hand, walking slightly in front of me as we went to the kitchen. <span id="kobo.41.2">This felt heavenly. <span id="kobo.41.3">I was wearing his robe, he just had boxers on, and now he was leisurely taking me to the kitchen to give me food.
<span id="kobo.42.1">I almost felt ufortable with how easy it was. <span id="kobo.42.2">I wasn’t used to this. <span id="kobo.42.3">Things with Malcolm had never been easy. <span id="kobo.42.4">Everything had always been a negotiation or a fight. <span id="kobo.42.5">If I wanted something, I was being unreasonable every single time. <span id="kobo.42.6">Eventually, I stopped wanting things or asking for romantic dates or getaways.
<span id="kobo.43.1">Some days I was still mad at myself for staying with him for as long as I did. <span id="kobo.43.2">My dating experience afterward wasn’t anything to brag about either.
<span id="kobo.44.1">He opened the fridge and asked, ‘How hungry are you?’
<span id="kobo.45.1">‘I don’t know. <span id="kobo.45.2">I think I could wait for a bit. <span id="kobo.45.3">Why? <span id="kobo.45.4">What do you have in mind? <span id="kobo.45.5">Should we order after all?’
<span id="kobo.46.1">‘No, I was thinking about making a quiche if you like that.’
<span id="kobo.47.1">My eyes bulged, and I couldn’t form words.
<span id="kobo.48.1">He looked at me over his shoulder. <span id="kobo.48.2">‘Reese?’
<span id="kobo.49.1">‘Sorry. <span id="kobo.49.2">I was too stunned to answer. <span id="kobo.49.3">You want to make a quiche <span id="kobo.50.1">now<span id="kobo.51.1">?’
<span id="kobo.52.1">‘Yeah, I’ve got all the stuff I need.’
<span id="kobo.53.1">‘You know how to make one?’ <span id="kobo.53.2">I double-checked.
<span id="kobo.54.1">‘You don’t?’
<span id="kobo.55.1">I shook my head. <span id="kobo.55.2">‘Baking isn’t my thing. <span id="kobo.55.3">The most cooking I do is when the whole family gathers at my aunt and uncle’s.’
<span id="kobo.56.1">‘Why, you bring your own food?’
<span id="kobo.57.1">‘No, but there are so many of us that she assigns us specific tasks. <span id="kobo.57.2">It’s smart; otherwise, she’d have to cook for hours.’
<span id="kobo.58.1">He took out eggs and cheese and a lot of other ingredients.
<span id="kobo.59.1">‘What do you need me to do?’ <span id="kobo.59.2">I asked.
<span id="kobo.60.1">‘I’ve got this. <span id="kobo.60.2">I’m not used to delegating like your aunt, so it’s easier if I do everything myself.’
<span id="kobo.61.1">‘Suits me,’ I said. <span id="kobo.61.2">That meant I had all the time in the world to just watch him move around. <span id="kobo.62.1">Yum.<span id="kobo.63.1"> Those muscles were a feast for my eyes.
<span id="kobo.64.1">‘What do your tattoos mean?” <span id="kobo.64.2">I asked, drinking in the ink on his body. <span id="kobo.64.3">The “private” tattoo he’d teased me with during the drive to the weekend event was on his lower back. <span id="kobo.64.4">It looked like a hawk in flight. <span id="kobo.64.5">It was amazing. <span id="kobo.64.6">The ink on his arms was more subtle—they looked like vines.
<span id="kobo.65.1">“That I had a rebellious streak in my twenties.”
<span id="kobo.66.1">“So you have a hawk on your back, but what’s that on your arms?”
<span id="kobo.67.1">“I intended for them to be guitar strings. <span id="kobo.67.2">I used to y in a band.”
<span id="kobo.68.1">“That’s sexy. <span id="kobo.68.2">Why did you stop?”
<span id="kobo.69.1">“Because I started Waldorf Fashion. <span id="kobo.69.2">And it took up all my time. <span id="kobo.69.3">I still enjoy music, but don’t y anymore.”
<span id="kobo.70.1">“Fair enough. <span id="kobo.70.2">By the way, I’d argue that you still have a rebellious streak. <span id="kobo.70.3">You just hide it really well with those sexy suits.”
<span id="kobo.71.1">He winked at me. <span id="kobo.71.2">“Damn right I do.”
<span id="kobo.72.1">***
<span id="kobo.74.1">F<span id="kobo.75.1">orty minutester<span id="kobo.76.1">, he took the quiche out of the oven. <span id="kobo.76.2">The top looked brown and crispy, and he immediately cut it into slices.
<span id="kobo.77.1">‘Do we have to wait for it to cool?’ <span id="kobo.77.2">I asked.
<span id="kobo.78.1">‘No, you can dig in.’
<span id="kobo.79.1">I immediately snagged a spoonful, blew on it a bit, then shoved it in my mouth. <span id="kobo.79.2">I closed my eyes, sighing. <span id="kobo.79.3">‘This is good. <span id="kobo.79.4">I have to hide you from my sister. <span id="kobo.79.5">If she finds out about your cooking skills, there will be no escaping her. <span id="kobo.79.6">She loves quiche.’
<span id="kobo.80.1">‘You already want to introduce me to your sister?’
<span id="kobo.81.1">I opened my eyes, straightening up. <span id="kobo.81.2">‘It was a figure of speech. <span id="kobo.81.3">I didn’t… <span id="kobo.81.4">I mean…’ <span id="kobo.81.5">I bit the inside of my cheek, ncing down at the te.
<span id="kobo.82.1">‘Reese, rx.’ <span id="kobo.82.2">He took my hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. <span id="kobo.82.3">‘I’d love to meet your sister anytime.’
<span id="kobo.83.1">My face exploded in a grin. <span id="kobo.83.2">‘Really?’
<span id="kobo.84.1">‘Yeah.’
<span id="kobo.85.1">‘Okay.’ <span id="kobo.85.2">My stomach somersaulted.
<span id="kobo.86.1">‘Why does she love quiche so much?’
<span id="kobo.87.1">‘She lived in Paris for a few years and kept saying that she can’t find good quiche here, but I think she’d love yours.’ <span id="kobo.87.2">I was rambling now. <span id="kobo.87.3">I didn’t understand why I was so nervous. <span id="kobo.87.4">‘You’re not going to eat?’ <span id="kobo.87.5">I asked when he made no move to grab a bite.
<span id="kobo.88.1">‘No, I’m not hungry. <span id="kobo.88.2">I’ll just have it for breakfast.’
<span id="kobo.89.1">I stared at him. <span id="kobo.89.2">‘You cooked all this for me?’
<span id="kobo.90.1">‘Reese, why do you keep acting so surprised that I like to do things for you?’
<span id="kobo.91.1">‘I don’t know. <span id="kobo.91.2">I didn’t think… <span id="kobo.91.3">never mind.’
<span id="kobo.92.1">The silence stretched between us for a few seconds before he said, ‘When you’re ready to talk about it, just know you can. <span id="kobo.92.2">I’m here for you.’
<span id="kobo.93.1">‘Thanks.’
<span id="kobo.94.1">For some reason, I kept expecting this night to take a turn for the worse, for him to make a slyment about me leaving or to only consider this night a ime thing. <span id="kobo.94.2">I’d always been a worrier and overthinker, but even for my standards, I was extra anxious tonight.
<span id="kobo.95.1">I was gun-shy after my past rtionship, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. <span id="kobo.95.2">But Dom hadn’t done anything to deserve this, and I needed to stop anticipating the worst.
<span id="kobo.96.1">‘So, you mentioned that you gather at your aunt and uncle’s. <span id="kobo.96.2">How often do you do that?’ <span id="kobo.96.3">he asked.
<span id="kobo.97.1">‘It depends. <span id="kobo.97.2">Since all my cousins and my sister have a better half, and even have kids, we don’t get together regrly. <span id="kobo.97.3">But I’m very close to everyone. <span id="kobo.97.4">My aunt and uncle are like my parents in a way.”
<span id="kobo.98.1">“Howe?”
<span id="kobo.99.1">Instead of simply saying, “Because we’re close,” other words poured out of me, ones I didn’t usually share with anyone outside my family.
<span id="kobo.100.1">‘After Mom passed away, Dad couldn’t really deal, to be honest. <span id="kobo.100.2">He used work as an escape, putting all his effort into expanding the chain of bookstores. <span id="kobo.100.3">My grandmother and aunt and uncle practically raised Kimberly and me.’
<span id="kobo.101.1">“But things are okay between you now?”
<span id="kobo.102.1">‘Oh yes, of course. <span id="kobo.102.2">As I said, he lives in London, so we aren’t as close as I’d hoped we’d be, but we do talk a lot, and visit. <span id="kobo.102.3">I’ve asked him to send me pics of my half sister once a week so even though I’m not there, I can at least see her grow up.’
<span id="kobo.103.1">Dom was suspiciously silent. <span id="kobo.103.2">I eyed him carefully. <span id="kobo.103.3">‘What?’
<span id="kobo.104.1">‘Nothing. <span id="kobo.104.2">I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s been through a tough spot with their parents and doesn’t hold one bit of resentment.’
<span id="kobo.105.1">I shrugged. <span id="kobo.105.2">‘He did the best with what he had. <span id="kobo.105.3">It’s not like he woke up every morning and thought, ‘Let’s find a way to screw up my girls.’ <span id="kobo.105.4">And I think older generations weren’t as open to therapy. <span id="kobo.105.5">After my spectacr failure with the marriage, I knew I couldn’t cope on my own.’
<span id="kobo.106.1">Dom moved around the counter until he was right in front of me. <span id="kobo.106.2">‘Let’s get one thing straight, Reese. <span id="kobo.106.3">The fact that your ex slept with your best friend is not your failure.’
<span id="kobo.107.1">‘Mm,’ I said nomittally, putting a hand to my stomach. <span id="kobo.107.2">Talking about this was never easy.
<span id="kobo.108.1">‘There’s something to be said for decency. <span id="kobo.108.2">When you don’t want to be in a rtionship anymore, you can be honest about it and break up, not cheat. <span id="kobo.108.3">There are better ways of getting out of a rtionship, ones that don’t include destroying the other person.’
<span id="kobo.109.1">I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me or him. <span id="kobo.109.2">I put a hand on his chest, drawing my fingers in small circles over his torso. <span id="kobo.109.3">He was tense, but I could practically feel his muscles rx under my touch.
<span id="kobo.110.1">‘You’re right,’ I said softly.
<span id="kobo.111.1">He pressed his thumb against my cheek. <span id="kobo.111.2">‘Don’t think that something you did led to that bastard cheating on you or your best friend betraying you. <span id="kobo.111.3">I’ve only known you for a hot minute, but I already know you’re a wonderful person, Reese. <span id="kobo.111.4">That guy was an idiot. <span id="kobo.111.5">That’s all on him.’
<span id="kobo.112.1">I dipped my head, smiling slightly. <span id="kobo.112.2">‘Thank you for saying that.’
<span id="kobo.113.1">‘You’re wee. <span id="kobo.113.2">Are you done eating?’
<span id="kobo.114.1">‘Yeah. <span id="kobo.114.2">It was delicious.’
<span id="kobo.115.1">Heughed and then, without warning, lifted me in his arms, one under my knees and the other around my back. <span id="kobo.115.2">I instinctively put both arms around his neck, snuggling close.
<span id="kobo.116.1">Holy shit. <span id="kobo.116.2">I feel like I’m in a movie.
<span id="kobo.117.1">‘Good. <span id="kobo.117.2">Now, we’re going to bed,’ he said.
<span id="kobo.118.1">‘We are? <span id="kobo.118.2">I’m not tired anymore.”
<span id="kobo.119.1">‘Are you sure? <span id="kobo.119.2">You were yawning before.’
<span id="kobo.120.1">‘Hmm. <span id="kobo.120.2">I could be talked into sleeping,’ I teased him, ‘though we might get other ideas once we’re in bed.’
<span id="kobo.121.1">When we reached the bedroom, the light was off. <span id="kobo.121.2">He set me right in the center of the bed before pulling back the covers.
<span id="kobo.122.1">‘Come on. <span id="kobo.122.2">Let’s get in so you don’t get cold,’ he said as I discarded the robe. <span id="kobo.122.3">I was buck naked, since I didn’t have any pajamas.
<span id="kobo.123.1">He slipped right next to me under the covers. <span id="kobo.123.2">This all felt so sinful with themps off, though there were plenty of sources of light outside. <span id="kobo.123.3">Chicago wasn’t sleeping yet.
<span id="kobo.124.1">I moved closer to him so our legs were intertwined, then put my hands on his torso, moving them up and down yfully.
<span id="kobo.125.1">‘You’re going to tempt me the whole night, aren’t you?’ <span id="kobo.125.2">he asked.
<span id="kobo.126.1">I grinned. <span id="kobo.126.2">‘You can be sure of that.’