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Talia exited the car and was engulfed in a huge hug while Fleet rounded the car and waited his turn. “It’s only been three weeks, Mom,” he laughed.
“Three very long weeks. But I think you’ll be pleased. We’ve gotten a lot done during that time, in preparation for our move.”
Fleet hugged his parents one by one, and secretly rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what kind of pack-rats they were. Not hoarders. Not at all. But they loved their knick-knacks and collections, and he’d be surprised if they’d dismantled a damned thing.
“Well let’s see,” he responded amusedly. “We’ll give Talia the tour and you can show us your progress.”
As he thought, not a thing had changed. Oh, they had some boxes stacked in one corner, having packed what looked like a few books, and maybe some of his father’s tools, but every shelf was still full; every doily still in place.
They certainly had their work cut out for them in the next few days.
* * *
Half an hour later,he and Talia were ensconced in his old bedroom, which his mother said she’d turned into a guest room, but it still retained at least half of what Fleet had left behind. Some old trophies, a favorite childhood stuffed animal, and…a picture of him and Bitsy on the dresser.
“Is this your childhood sweetheart?” Talia asked, going right to the frame, not hesitating to pick it up.
“Yeah,” he answered, somewhat uncomfortably. “That’s me and Bitsy.”
Odd. Saying her name didn’t cause the pain it used to. He put that down to being head-over-heels in love with Talia.
“She’s pretty,” Talia continued. “Do you…” She hummed a little under her breath. “Do you think you should find out where she is and talk to her while we’re here?”
The thought had occurred to Fleet, but hearing it from Talia’s mouth made it seem like something he should do more than simply consider.
“I might, but I don’t even know if she’s still around,” he answered lamely. Now that he was here, the possibility of seeing Bitsy was a possibility.
“We can always ask your parents if they know.” Talia looked a little smug. Like she knew something he didn’t.
“Okay. Spill,” he said, moving forward to place his hands on her waist, tugging her into his body.
“What?” she asked, attempting to seem innocent.
“Don’t ‘what’, me, Talia Spires,” he countered, leaning down and nipping her ear. “I can tell when something’s afoot.”
She sighed prettily, turning so he could get better access to all the little places on her neck that he knew drove her crazy.
“Mmm. I might have discussed a few things with your mother previous to our trip.”
Fleet raised a palm as he nibbled, laying it over Talia’s breast to feel her nipple turn to a sharp point from his attention. He honed in and gave it an encouraging pinch.
“What kind of discussion?” he ordered.
Talia sighed happily again. “If you’re trying for torture, Fleet, you’re going about it all wrong. Keep doing what you’re doing, and I might never answer your questions.”
Fleet couldn’t have backed off if he wanted to. He’d never get enough of touching Talia.
“Just spill it,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, expelling a stream of warm air into her whorls as he worked her perky nub.
“Okay. Fine,” she agreed languidly. “Your ex owns and runs a restaurant in the city, and your parents have reconnected with her in the past year. Bitsy knows you’re coming, and wants to see you.”
“Geeze.” Fleet pulled back, not sure how he felt about that. It wasn’t as if his parents had gone behind his back to find Bitsy, but they could have told him they’d been in touch. “If I say no, I’ll be an asshole, won’t I?” he asked.
“Not an asshole,” Talia assured him with a sigh now that she wasn’t receiving his attention. “But it might be good for some closure, don’t you think?”
“I think the people who love me are terrible busy-bodies,” he groused. “But yes. It might be a good idea.” He relented. “We can go to dinner at Bitsy’s restaurant.”
“Great,” Talia said with a brilliant smile. “We have reservations in an hour.”
