She nodded and closed her glistening eyes. “Me too.”
He kissed her, deep and slow, like two decades of pain and history weren’t hanging over them. He kissed her as though he’d never left to play hockey, as though she’d been his girl for their whole lives and no one else had kissed her.
He kissed her the way he should have twenty years earlier—and the way he intended to kiss her for the rest of his life.
***
“Good morning.” He bent over and kissed her temple as she sat cross-legged on a dining room chair in an oversized sweater. The mug of coffee she cradled was so big it could easily be mistaken for a bucket.
She sucked in a yawn and scratched her head through her messy bun before answering. “Good morning. Coffee’s in the pot.”
“You sure there’s enough left for me?” He jerked his chin at her cup while he picked up the second mug from the counter.
“Don’t judge the size of my coffee mug, Elliott.”
“No judgment, just amusement. That mug is big enough to go for a swim in.”
Her sleepy smile brightened the kitchen. She hadn’t been wrong about her house. The place definitely needed a little TLC and fixing up. A leak in the faucet, boxes of tiles stacked in the corner—presumably to replace her floor—faded paint on the walls, and a few other small things that needed to be fixed.
Something dropping on the floor upstairs made him jump. “The fuck? Did Cat come home early? She said she wouldn’t be back this early. Should I leave?” While he’d thrown on a t-shirt before coming downstairs, he was still in his boxers and didn’t want to be busted by Cat in his undies.
Clare waved him off and he sat in the chair facing her. “That’s just Lola. My cleaner.” She snorted.
He cocked his head. “What’s so funny?”
“This place needs more than a cleaner coming in once a month for a few hours to sort it out. It’s a mess. I keep saying I’m going to just take a room at a time and fix it up, but I never get around to it. I’m amazed that Lola ever manages to actually get to the dirt.”
Elliott would love to get a housekeeper into his parent’s house, but Dad would never stand for a stranger being in his space. “What kinds of things does she do for you?”
He sipped on the elixir of life, breathing the steam deep into his lungs. Was there a better smell on earth than freshly made coffee?
“Mostly the bathrooms. My kids are animals. Lazy animals. But if she has extra time she’ll dust the rest of the space, empty or load the dishwasher if there are dishes around. She’s overworked and under paid. Just like the rest of us.” She closed her eyes and took a drink. “Someday I’ll get this place fixed up and it’ll always be drop-in ready. But that day is not today.”
The heaviness in her voice twisted something in his stomach. She wasn’t complaining about her life, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel for her. She had gone through so much by herself, was so many things to so many people, and yet she never felt enough. It had to be an exhausting way to live.
“Clare? Do you want me to put your vibrators back on charge? I saw the cables hanging out of the drawer.” Lola poked her head around the door, her eyes locked onto him and widened. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had a visitor.”
He offered her a warm smile—with any luck, she wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable. He was the one, after all, sitting in his underwear.
“It’s okay, Lola.” Clare laughed but her face was bright red. “Yes, please. There’s a new one next to the gold clutch on the dresser. It needs to be charged as well.”
Lola rolled her eyes and tutted. “There are only so many cables, Clare. I’ll have to do them in batches.” The older lady shook her head and left.
“Thanks, Lola!” Clare grinned. “She’s the best.”
“She sure seems like it. I mean, there’s nothing worse than going to get yourself off and your toys are all dead, right?”
“See?” She raised her mug to him. “You get it.”
He nodded solemnly. “Only too well.”
She burst out laughing. Leaning forward, she gave him a push. “I’m feeling judgment from you, Elliott Swift. You don’t get to judge my vibrators any more than you get to judge the amount of coffee I drink. Especially not when you buy me a new vibrator to add to my collection.”
Holding up his hands, he shook his head. “I’m impressed and low-key intimidated by your toy collection, Clare Reynolds. But there is absolutely no judgment from me. I just wish you didn’t need them.”
Her piercing blue eyes met his over their mugs and unspoken words hung between them, stifling him. Her eyes said “well maybe if you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t need to fuck myself with silicone.” He cringed. They probably didn’t say that, but his guilt raged in his stomach and it was what he felt.
It was true. If he’d stayed, he’d have been with her, and her need to self-service wouldn’t have even been a thing.
