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I don’t reply, not yet.
My arm wraps her waist, pulling her body tight to mine.
My forehead moves to hers, but my hand continues to force her face up to look at me.
“Keep playing these games, Lola. Keep playing them and you’ll find out. You know that answer. It started in your bakery, yelling at me because I broke in. Shit got real when I tasted you that first time. I made you mine in my bed, moaning my name at two in the morning when I finally slid inside you that first time.”
“That’s not—”
“I will spend every day, if I need to, reminding you that you’re mine. You wanna fight me on it? Baby, I fucking love the way we fight, so bring it on. But make no mistake, sweet girl. You are mine.” Her tongue comes out, licking her lips and grazing the thumb I have on her full lower lips.
Every molecule is begging me to throw her back on the bed and fuck her until she understands what this is.
Understands that she drives me up a wall, and we will fight and fuck and make up and I will live in that cycle happily with her for as long as she lets me lie in her sunshine.
Instead, I press my lips to her, cutting off whatever chaotic argument that will inevitably come from her lips before stepping back, letting go of her chin, and moving that hand to her own, twining small fingers with tattooed ones and tugging.
“Let’s go before someone comes looking for us.”
And to my surprise, her hand twines with mine, and she follows without a fight.
Thirty-Seven
-Lola-
It’s gonedark despite it being summer, and it’s time to head back to Ocean View. We’re standing in the backyard of Ben's childhood home, trees lining the large, green yard and lightning bugs blinking on and off.
Ben is talking to his father.
His jaw is tight, his hand stiff as he puts it out to shake his father’s hand, and his father mirrors his actions, tight jaw, arm out, narrowed eyes.
It isso incredibly awkward.
But at least I can kind of see now where the stubborn, mildly dick-ish streak he has comes from. My eyes drift to where Tanner is sitting with Jordan in his lap, both smiling and chatting with friends I met while here. I wonder if Tanner has the stubborn streak or his mom’s sweet side.
“Thank you so very much for coming today, Lola,” Mrs. Coleman says. “And thank you so much for the treats! I can’t wait for the next time we head down to you guys so I can try one of everything.” Her smile is radiant and I wonder if it’s the champagne, her birthday, having her whole family in one place, or if she’s always like this.
“Any time, Mrs. Coleman, seriously,” I say with a smile. “It was so nice to meet you.” I put a hand out to shake hers, but her hand swipes the air.
“Oh no, Lola, you’re basically family now.” A burning blush takes over my face. “Come, give me a hug!” And then she pulls me into her arms the same way she did before, and just like before, I panic for a split second.
I haven’t been hugged like this in 15 years. More if you add in the time mom spent in a hospital bed.
And right now, in this kind woman’s arms, I realize I never had even the smallest replacement. Not from Dad, that’s for sure.
My arms wrap around her in return, and I sigh into the feeling. With my breath, Mrs. Coleman hugs me a hair tighter.
“Thank you, Lola,” she says into my hair. “Thank you for bringing him home.”
“Oh, Mrs. Coleman—”
“Call me Joyce.” That feels . . . too familiar. Too close.
Too nice.
Then her arms are loosening, and I’m being pulled back, a thick familiar arm on my waist.
Ben.
