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To be fair, I did dress up for him. Cute but casual, jeans and a sexy cropped tank top.
Still, he doesn’t have to put on this show. He definitelydoesn’t have to slip a hand into the back pocket of my jeans and pull me against him. I have to tilt my head all the way back to meet his eyes.
He’s done this all week, touched me like I’m really his. Taken care of me like he really gives a shit.
Like he’s in love.
“Thank you. How was your day?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Happy to be home. You? Feel all right?”
We took a break from penetrative sex earlier this week. Even Abel was sore from all the sex we’d been having. We went back to it last night, and it was so good we may have gotten a little carried away. I think I finally fell asleep around two, maybe three in the morning? And then I was up with the sun, Abel rolling on top of me as the bedroom windows filled with light.
“I feel great. I’m a little anxious to see Tuck tonight. Excited to see Katie and the baby. Ready for some food.”
Abel’s chest barrels out on an inhale. “I know. I’m sorry you’re anxious. We’ll get through this together, all right?”
We’ve been to Tuck’s house every day this week. And every day, he takes the gifts. The offers of help—I’ve brought Katie to the pool nearly every afternoon. But he doesn’t talk to either of us. Literally pretends we’re not there.
Maren does what she can. She pulled me aside and said she’s trying to get through to him. She says he’ll come around, that he needs more time. Which Abel and I get.
Doesn’t make it any easier. I miss my brother. I miss hanging out as a family. And it makes me fearful of how angry Tuck will be when we tell him the truth.
Dad, meanwhile, has been cheerful as ever. He has a date for his surgery next week, which I think put some pep in his step. He and Lady came over to Abel’s house for dinner after he got the news. Abel played the part of the devoted husband with aplomb, never allowing my wine glass or my plate to be empty.
“I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.” Dad squeezed my arm on his way out later that night. “And that’s because I see how happy you are with Abel.”
I’d never felt more like crying in my entire life.
Abel palms my ass through my jeans. “Hey. Where’d you go?”
I blink and see him looking down at me, brow furrowed. “There’s a lot to work through, that’s all.”
Tai won’t stop smacking my legs with her tail. Feels like a weapon when she’s this excited.
“How ’bout you work through them with a margarita in your hand? I hear it helps.”
I smile. This man is constantly making me smile. “Can’t hurt.”
Lu arrives a minute later with several bags of supplies. “Y’all! Hey!” She wraps us in hugs. “Don’t you guys look... nice.” She glances between the two of us. Riley’s filled her in on our relationship being fake. But I can tell she’s suspicious.
Abel laughs. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. You’ve just got this glow about y’all I haven’t seen before.”
I hold up my glass. “It’s the tequila.”
She grins. “Sure it is.”
Lu digs a pair of aprons out of a bag and hands them to us. “Cooking can get a little messy, especially with first timers like y’all. You’ll definitely want to wear these.”
I reach for an apron, but Abel stops me and takes both from Lu. Shaking one out, he drops it over my head, then spins me around to tie it at the small of my back. “Good?” he asks. “Too tight?”
There’s a sliver of bare skin between my jeans and tank top. He grazes it with his fingertips, an intentional caress that sends a shiver up my spine. “Nope, it’s perfect. Thank you. Here, lemme help you with yours.”
Abel lets me tie his apron. He looks predictably adorablein it. Then I watch, heart leaping, as Abel helps Lu unpack all the food. There’s a bag of Rodgers Farms grits, shrimp wrapped in Dad’s signature butcher paper, locally made andouille sausage. Lots of butter. Leeks, green onions, and a block of white cheddar cheese.
Abel glances at me, brow furrowed. “Are we making?—”
