My phone vibrates in my hand and I jump.
Beck
Where are you at?
I’ve got a surprise for you.
My lips twist while I consider returning inside. I was a mature adult last night. As tough as it was, I made the decision not to cross the imaginary line. Staying put out here, I’m safe. There’s no worry over crossing boundaries or doing something either of us will regret. Or worse, not be able to undo.
My phone vibrates again.
Beck
I made coffee.
And that settles it. I’m back inside the apartment in less than two seconds. There’s no consideration when coffee is involved. My answer is alwaysyes.
“Thought you could use this.” With a little wink, he offers me a mug.
“Desperately.” I don’t check the temp; I don’t even say thank-you before I’m gulping it down. It’s hot but not burn your mouth hot. And it’s strong. The kind of strong that gives you a kick in the ass to wake up. “Thank you,” I finally say once I’ve come up for air.
He shrugs and takes a sip from his own cup as he leans against the kitchen counter. He’s still dressed in his dad’s sweats and T-shirt, and if it’s possible—looking hotter than he did last night. Maybe it’s the added touch of his hat that he’s using toeither hide his messy hair or his eyes from the embarrassment over last night. “It’s nothing fancy like I’m sure you’re used to.”
And we’re back with the little digs. This one may be more subtle than his usual, but it’s still obvious.
“What do you even know about me?” I quip over my shoulder as I stalk through the living room and back outside to the deck.
“A lot, actually,” he says to my back, following me.
I didn’t mean to start a fight. I’m tired, it’s early, and there’s a dull ache sitting around my back and lower stomach. And clearly neither of us got a good night’s sleep. Because if I was cramped on the sofa, he definitely woke up feeling stiffer. My mind shifts after that last thought, wondering if other parts of him woke up stiff.
“I know you need a cup of coffee within the first thirty minutes of waking up or you get grouchy.” He chuckles lightly, but not in a patronizing way.
I open my mouth to speak but clamp it shut when it appears he’s not done talking.
“Or you get a headache. Which then makes you grouchy.” He smirks at this, and I just roll my eyes. “I know you like to visit new coffee shops but you never like the coffee. You only like to go for the vibes. Because I know that you prefer your coffee with honey and oat milk. But if they don’t have it, you’ll settle for sugar and cream.”
My stomach twists and to keep myself from overanalyzing his words, I take another drink of my coffee. Except the taste of the sugar on my tongue is a cruel reminder. After seven years, Beck still knows how I take my coffee.
“And I know it damn near killed you every day since Charlie was born that you hadn’t told me about her. You never kept secrets from me.” My insides quiver and some of the guilt I’ve been holding on to releases. “Pfft. What do I even know about you? How can you even say that?” He shakes his head, runninghis thumb over the handle of his mug. “I know a lot about you, Rosie.”
I swallow another gulp of coffee. “I guess you do,” I mumble.
We lock eyes and there’s heat and tenderness ricocheting between us. We share a weird sort of reconciliation smile.
I move to the railing and lean my elbows on it while cradling my mug in both hands. He joins me, our arms brushing slightly, and my body fills with warmth. There’s not only memory carrying these feelings. Because as much as I thought they were gone, it seems they were only stuffed down deep. Now that we’re together again, those old feelings are threatening to rise to the surface.
We drink our coffee silently, probably another thing he remembers about me—I prefer to have almost a full cup of caffeine before communicating with others. Gazing at the ocean in the distance, the rising sun glitters across the waters surface.
When I glance over my shoulder at Beck, his brown eyes are pensive beneath the rim of his hat. My stomach tightens in apprehension as I consider what’s on his mind.
“Ya know, I know a lot about you too.”
He turns to face me, leaning a hip against the railing. “Yeah?”
“I know you’re good at your work and you enjoy it.”
He bobs his head but I’m not sure he believes my words.
