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I think for a few moments, with nothing coming straight to mind. And then, a long-forgotten memory comes. Something that seemed insignificant at the time, but with the way Charlize is shuffling my thoughts, seems very different now. “I think she had a love affair about three months after my father died that she never told anyone about.”
“It didn’t last?”
“I don’t think so, and I don’t know for sure what the relationship was. I saw her at lunch one day with a man and while I didn’t think a lot on it, I recall thinking the way she looked at him was a way I’d never seen her look at anyone.”
She smiles. “I hope it was a love affair.”
I eye her dinner. “You need to eat.”
She doesn’t move. “You don’t like to talk about this?”
“There’s no point. Whatever it was for Mom, it’s in the past. Why go over the past?”
Her expression leads me to believe she doesn’t agree with me, but she doesn’t say anything further. Instead, her fingers weave their way through my hair while she brings her mouth to mine. This kiss isn’t as deep and all-consuming as our last one, but it’s not quick either. When she ends it, she says, “I understand that.”
She doesn’t try to push me.
She doesn’t try to change my mind.
And she doesn’t try to tell me I’m wrong.
She simply tells me she understands me, climbs off my lap, and moves back to her seat.
She then works her way through the rest of the boxes, trying everything, killing me with her sounds of pleasure while talking with me about random things from our lives.
We discuss our senior proms and I learn that Charlize refused to go with a date.
We talk about our grandparents, and I learn she loved spending time with her grandfather in the same way I like spending time with mine.
She brings up the topic of Nutella and digs around in my head for a bit trying to figure out why I don’t like it. I find this entire conversation amusing. I’ve never met a woman who can carry on a discussion about food like Charlize can. The fact she could keep my attention for hours on a topic as simple as Nutella if she wanted to astounds me.
The truth is that I’m fucking captivated by this woman and everything about her.
12
Charlize
Iwake early on Wednesday morning thanks to Owen staying the night and getting up at some ungodly hour to go home.
“What time is it?” I mumble into my pillow. I do not want to open my eyes or lift my head because that will mean I am in fact awake. However, I desperately want to do both those things so I can catch a glimpse of him before he leaves. Why must life be so full of conflicting desires? I feel like we should be born as a set of clones so that these situations don’t occur.
Owen’s hand comes to the back of my head right before his lips do. He kisses me and says, “It’s just before five. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not awake.” I keep my face firmly smooshed into my pillow, willing this statement to be true.
“I agree. You’re absolutely not awake.”
“I will hurt you if you’re laughing at me, Owen North.”
“Fuck.” He says that with the kind of growly sound that could encourage me to wake up for real. His hand on my back after he says it goes a little more toward waking me up. “I like my name on your lips,” he murmurs before kissing my shoulder.
“Oh my God, stop it,” I grumble as I roll onto my side and crack my eyes open. “Stop waking me up. Who even gets up at this time of the day?” I stare at him. “And who looks that good at five fucking a.m.?”
Owen is sitting on the edge of my bed, dressed, and looking as good as he did when he arrived last night. He bends so he can press a kiss to my lips. “I take it you’re awake now?”
“Yes, and you should take this as your one and only warning that I don’t do well before seven in the morning on days off.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
