I chuckle. “If he’ll have me.”
“Honestly, he doesn’t get a vote.”
She holds my gaze for one more second.
Then she lays her head back down on my chest.
Her hand, which had stilled, resumes its absent tracing.
And after a moment, quietly, almost to herself:
Someday.
Like she’s trying it on.
Like she might keep it.
I press my lips to the top of her head and say nothing.
Because I’m a patient man.
And some things are worth waiting for.
twenty
“AT LAST” — ETTA JAMES
Tavey
Monday morning feels deeply unnecessary.
Not because I’m tired.
Okay, partly because I’m tired.
But mostly because I am now expected to put on real clothes, leave my apartment, and go sit in a corporate environment with a man whose mouth has recently been in some very intimate places.
And not in an abstract, hypothetical, someday maybe this will happen sort of way.
In a very real, very recent, less than twelve hours ago sort of way.
This feels like something HR should provide a pamphlet for.
I stand in front of my closet for too long before choosing a soft green sweater and dark jeans.Something normal. Something that says, I am a competent adult professional and not at all distracted by the memory of Miller doing … things.
Which is a lie.
But at least it’s a tidy one.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter while I’m halfway through mascara.
I glance at the screen.
Family Chaos
Rosa
Did you survive the wedding or are you dead in a ditch somewhere with glitter on your face
