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Zeke grimaces and I can’t hold in the laugh.
“She spends most of my life trying to set me up, and now all she does is cockblock me?”
* * *
Dinner is lovely and delicious. Freddy and Pasha and Lule are there, and the “Bey-mance” between Lule and Rachel continues to grow. They sit next to each other, tapping out what sounds like Morse Code messages to each other. Sweet Ivan makes sure Edie’s cider glass is always full and that she’s never wanting for mashed potatoes. Meanwhile, Zeke spends dinner eating with his left hand while his right hand gropes my thigh. By the time dinner is over, we’re both hot and bothered—and out of time.
“Come on, Z—Waze says it’s going to take twenty minutes to get to the airport,” Zach says.
I would have driven him, but Zeke said if I did, he’d find a way to get me on the plane with him. And I really can’t tempt fate.
Zeke tosses his duffel bag into the back of the truck cab as Zach starts the ignition. Zeke shuts the door, giving us slightly more privacy.
“You gonna stay up until I get to my hotel tonight?”
“Won’t it be late there?”
He takes my hand in his and presses his lips to my fingertips.
“Meh, not too late for me to tell you what to do with these fingers,” he says. He leans me against the truck, and even though it’s wet from the rain that moved through earlier, I really don’t care. He presses his lips to mine, kissing me good and hard. Then he presses his forehead to mine.
“I don’t like goodbyes,” he says. There’s something to his tone, something sharp and raw. I squeeze the back of his neck and press a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Then maybe we just say ‘see ya later’?”
“Ugh,” he groans with a little laugh. “That’s so cheesy.”
“I like cheese,” I say with a shrug.
“And I like you.”
“Well, I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says.
“No, you hang up!” Zach yells from inside the truck.
We both laugh, and Zeke wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight and kissing me once more. I step away from the truck and he opens the door. As he’s about to get in, he hesitates and looks up at me.
“You know you’re my person, right?”
My chest expands, and I can’t stop the grin that tugs at the corners of my lips. And I nod.
“You’re my person,” I say.
He nods, smiles, and gets in the truck. I watch my person drive away to the airport, where he’ll go on to realize his dreams of covering grown men in Mexico playing volleyball meets football meets capoeira—which is basically Brazilian break-dance fighting—on trampolines. And I stay behind so that I can get started studying bird brains.
And I couldn’t be more excited for the future.
