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I poke my head inside. The apartment’s simple. Small living room to the right, dining area to the left. Pass-through kitchen. Long hallway that probably leads to bedrooms and a bathroom.
Melissa’s sitting at a round table just outside of the kitchen. I wave to capture her attention. “Hey. Just dropping off the girls.”
“Come in, come in,” she says. “Have some wine with me.” She holds up a large bottle of red.
“No, I’m good.” I close the door behind me just in case Dex has to walk by to get to his apartment. “Thank you.”
We chat for a few minutes. Insufferable small talk that I’m terrible at.
Frank joins us and we make a loose plan for when I’ll pick Libby up tomorrow.
Then I’m free.
Feeling like a naughty teenager breaking all the rules, I hurry up the rest of the stairs to the top floor. The door on my right stands ajar but I knock softly anyway.
“Come in,” Dex calls out.
I push the door open and study the sparsely furnished space. It’s larger than the apartment I just left. Or maybe it’s the lack of extra stuff to personalize the space that makes it seem bigger.
To my left, there’s a kitchen with an open pass-through counter. I spot Dex at the stove, close the door behind me, and make my way to the counter.
“How’d it go?” he asks, setting a steaming mug of hot water in front of me. He turns away and reaches up, drawing my attention to where his plain white T-shirt lifts, showing off his inked skin.
Wipe the drool off your chin, girl.
I clear my throat and focus on his question. “Melissa wanted me to stay for wine. But I’ve had all I can take of the small talk and weird undercurrent between her and Frank.”
“Is that the only reason?” he asks as he turns around.
I meet his eyes. “No.”
He sets a black glass jar next to my mug.
“Tea?” I ask, pleased he remembered.
“I can’t take credit for it. Grinder left some in the cabinets.”
“Serena gave up coffee when she was pregnant.”
“Ah, that explains all the tea and no coffee.”
I busy myself with pulling out one of the tea sachets and dunking it in the steaming water. The floral, chamomile scent soothes my nerves.
Dex sets a plate and teaspoon on the counter.
“Thanks.”
I pick up the jar of tea and study the label. “Sleep With Me. Nighttime Brew.” I chuckle and set it down. “Smooth one, Murder Daddy.”
He bursts into laughter. “What?”
Heat races over my cheeks and up to my forehead. “Oh. I, uh…it’s just…I tease Serena sometimes that her man has that whole murderous, protective vibe going on. And the gray beard.” I touch my chin. “You know, like a Murder Daddy.”
His lips twitch.
“Please don’t tell him I said that” I plead. “I’ll never be able to look Grayson in the eye again.”
“Trust me, there’s no way I want to call him any version of Daddy to his face. Your secret is safe with me.”
Awkwardness crawls over my skin. I can’t believe I said that to him.
“It’s true, though,” Dex says. “I can’t tell you how many times he’s threatened to kick my ass if I screw this up.” He points at me, then himself.
Doesn’t that push my mortification into the red zone.
“But I’m the one who screwed things up,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he slowly walks around the counter and leans against the stool next to me. I take my time looking him up and down. Plain white T-shirt. Jeans. Barefoot. Hair slightly damp.
“Did you take a shower?” I ask.
“Quick one.” He brushes his hand over the top of his head, ruffling his hair. “Wanted to get the pizza joint smell off me.”
I laugh softly and stir my tea. Why am I so nervous?
Because you want to jump him and ride him like a mechanical bull.
“You always smell good.” Oh my God, why did I say that?
The corners of his mouth lift.
My phone buzzes and I turn away, slide my purse across the counter, and search through it until my fingers brush against the phone.
Libby: Sorry abt b4. I know u just worry.
I stare at the screen. She’s been so annoyed with me lately. Emotion wells up in my throat. Maybe I’m not a terrible big sister after all.
“Everything okay?” Dex asks. “Do we need to go pick her up?”
My heart jumps at the way he says “we.” I glance into his concerned eyes. “Libby sent me an I’m sorry text. I’m a little speechless.”
His jaw tightens. “I noticed the tension between you two.”
I shrug even though it bothers me. “Comes with the big sister territory. I’m used to it.”
“You’re a good sister, Emily.” He rests his hand over mine. “I’ve always thought so. Anyone can see how much you love Libby.”
“Thanks.” I stir my spoon in the tea. “Thanks for making tonight…easier.” I sigh and stare into my mug, unsure of how to put this into words. “I always feel so awkward and out of place around her friends’ parents. I’m younger than all of them—obviously. Libby’s my sister, not my daughter, so I can’t quite relate to their struggles. And they always seem uncomfortable when they remember our situation, so then I feel bad about that.”
