“Love is complicated.”
“That’s one word for it.”
She ignores me and gives him another bite. He rolls onto his back and kicks his feet, waiting for a belly rub.
“Great,” I mutter. “Now he’s acting like he earned this.”
Tessa reaches into the fry box and pulls out the last one. She holds it up between us, her expression careful.
I take it from her fingers slowly. She notices the pace, and her eyebrows lift.
“Truce?” she asks.
“For now.”
She nods and licks the salt from her thumb. She doesn’t mean anything by it, but my pulse still jumps.
I look away before she catches that, too.
“Wow,” she says quietly. “That’s progress.”
I shrug, pretending it means nothing. “He’s still on thin ice.”
“I’m not talking about the dog.”
My hand stills in the air.
Of course, she’d say that right when I’m pretending I’m fine.
And then she reaches for the brownie.
Breaks it cleanly in half and hands me a piece.
I take it because she offered, and because turning it down would be more honest than I’m ready for. Maybe we’re both pretending this is temporary. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe neither of us wants to look directly at the possibility yet.
We finish eating with our legs stretched out across the bed, the containers shoved aside, Waffles belly-up between us. It’s too comfortable, and I know it, but I don’t move.
Tessa licks brownie crumbs off her thumb.
She notices me staring.
“What?” she demands, eyes narrowing. “Do I have chocolate on my face?”
“No. You’re just feral.”
“Excuse me?”
“That wasn’t eating. That was a food heist. You attacked that brownie.”
She grins and leans against the headboard, robe slipping slightly as she settles. “Please. You act like I haven’t watched you inhale three bags of Doritos and call it dinner.”
“That was once.”
“Twice.”
“There was a power outage.”
“You were in a law library.”
