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“Why didn’t you tell Josie?” Cato asked.
“Because she worries so much. If she saw this,” I said, waving at my face, “she would be a complete mess every single time I went out on a job.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice so quiet that I barely heard it. And I was sitting right next to him.
I took a deep breath before turning to face him.
“I’m not used to having someone to share this kind of thing with,” I told him. “I’ve never had someone waiting on my call, or expecting me to show up, or worrying about me when I don’t answer.”
“Did you think I wasn’t waiting or worrying?” he asked.
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I called. And texted.”
“I never turned my ringer back on after the job. And I didn’t expect you to call like that.”
“Can I make something pretty fucking clear right now?” he asked, tone still casual, but there was something serious in his pretty eyes.
“Yeah,” I said, voice tight, some part of me terrified he was going to tell me that I was a dick for not telling him what happened, that he had no tolerance for chicks who made him wait and worry, that he was done with me.
“I’m in,” he said. “In this. In us. I’m all in. The only reason I wasn’t making that clearer was because I got the feeling that you might spook if I pushed too hard too fast. But it has pretty much been nothing but you up here,” he said, tapping his temple, “since you jumped on the back of my bike.”
“You’re right,” I said, trying to pretend that the gooey lava cake sensation wasn’t overtaking me again. “I would have spooked,” I clarified, giving him a little smile. “I’m… really bad with emotions and touchy-feely shit like that. I never really understood relationships before.”
“But now?” he prompted.
“Now… I don’t know. I like being with you, that’s all I know. And your friends. And I don’t like the idea of you not being around.”
“Hey, I’ll take it,” he said, shooting me a smile I was learning to like way too much. “Then, if or when you want to give me more, I’ll take that too,” he said, bopping the side of his head into the side of mine.
He couldn’t possibly know how much it meant to me that he was willing to give me time. I knew me. I was going to have moments where I needed take time to process things before I could wrap my head around them, then move forward.
“Are you fucking anyone else?” I blurted out, watching as he jerked back at the bluntness before a smile tugged at his lips.
“No, baby. Just told you it’s been nothing but you since I saw you that first night. You?” he asked.
“No. And, ah, I… uhm… I don’t want to,” I said, inspecting my nail bed because this felt like a big deal to discuss.
“Good. I don’t either,” he said. There was a long pause, both of us lost in our own thoughts. “Think this means we’re officially in a relationship,” he said finally.
“I… yeah,” I agreed, nodding. Was a part of me rebelling against that? Sure. But it was a knee-jerk reaction, something based on past experiences, not the present situation.
“Think I’m kinda happy with that,” he said.
“Me too,” I agreed.
“Never fucking thought I’d say that.”
“Me either,” I said, feeling a small smile tug at my lips. “I always thought I would end up rich and single with half a dozen sugar babies around to make me margaritas and rub my feet.”
“Well,” he said, reaching down to carefully pull my feet into his lap. “You can still be rich. And I can make you margaritas,” he said, starting to sink his thumb right into that achy bit in the arch of my foot. “And rub your feet,” he said as a mewling sound escaped me.
“Careful,” I warned. “I will take advantage of you now that I know this is an option.”
“Baby, if there is one thing I will never complain about, it’s you taking advantage of me,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Don’t look at me like that when I’m too injured to do anything about it,” I demanded, pouting.
