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He seems to be absorbing the image of me playing with the baby. Car keys looped on his finger, his gun and radio are holstered like he’s on-duty, but no one trails behind him. He’s all alone.
“Hi,” I say, breathless.
“Hi to you.” He scratches at the back of his head, his breath just as trapped as mine. Our eyes only shift when Ripley races over to a bucket of Hot Wheels. Ripley doesn’t have a bad habit of putting smaller toys in his mouth, so he’s allowed Hot Wheelswith supervisiononly. “You babysitting?” Donnelly asks, coming closer.
I pick myself off the floor. “Kinda. It’s not really a big babysitting gig. Moffy and Farrow just stepped out for a sec.” I point at the ceiling. “They’re on the rooftop if you’re looking for them. I think I saw Oscar and Charlie go up there too.”
Donnelly slips his fingers through his tousled hair. “I actually wanted to talk to you.” He ends up gripping the back of the couch. The mod blue piece of furniture separates me from him, but how he’s sweeping me, I get the distinct notion that he’d love to catapult it if he could.
He wants to talk to me.
I really hope this isn’t a bad news talk. I’malmoston edge. I sayalmostbecause something about sharing oxygen with Donnelly always makes me floaty inside. Like I’m a few seconds from an exhilarating takeoff.
“Okay, yeah,” I nod. “I’m all ears, even the ones that haven’t fully grown in yet.”
He starts to grin. “You’ve got ears on the back of your head?”
“The tops of my feet. Better to hear you with from down below.”
“Lemme talk to your foot. Gimme.” He motions to me, and I high-kick my bare foot at him. Donnelly clasps my ankle, and my smile is effervescent inside me, keeping me warm.
“Hale?” He talks to my toes. “You hear me?”
“Loud and crackly,” I say, then accidentally wobble out of his hold. Losing balance, he tries to keep me from doing a painful split by reaching for my hips, but as he scales the couch, I splat onto the cushions—and he falls on top of me.
Holy shit.
His strong build is melded against mine. Our chests rising and falling together, his hand is on the cushion near my cheek. He’s just as surprised he landed here. “Fuck. Sorry.” He lifts himself off me quickly. Standing, he’s raking his hands through his hair and readjusting his untucked black tee.
My face is roasting.
We both check Ripley, but my nephew is busy racing a yellow Mustang against a green Jeep on the floorboards.
I sit up, trying not to remember the epic, most unforgettable time Donnelly and I had sex. The memories blaze my body in a needy swelter. “What’d you want to talk about?” I ask. “My DMs?”
His brows twitch. “Your DMs?” He digs in his pocket, confused.
“I thought you read it.” It says he did with a timestamp.
He skims his phone. “Shit, no. I must’ve clicked into it, but I never saw it. Your dad”—he jabs a thumb behind him—“called me when I was on the elevator.”
“The team-up?” I’m guessing.
“Yeah.” Donnelly reads the DM in full, then looks deeper into me. “It’s never ano.Of course I wanna still go with you. Who else will be Team Callie with me?” He motions to me. “We’ll hit up all the Bass panels together. It’ll be dope.”
Except there’s the new underlying fact that we’re goingas friends.
I try to fly-swat away the encroaching disappointment and hang on to the positives.We can still have an awesome time in San Francisco asjust friends.It’s only a month away. Not so long from now, and maybe…maybe everything will be resolved by then. Maybe wecouldactually attend as a couple.
Not so fast, Luna.
I am a greedy bean. Probably too impatient as well. I just want all of him. Now.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” I nod, trying to accept whatever I can get. “I can pay you back. How much was the ticket?” I open my cash app.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I frown. “Fan conventions aren’t that cheap. I can pay—”
