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“You’re still an arse-bag.”
“I am,” he admits. “An impatient, pushy, demanding, overbearing, entitled arse-bag. I need my teddy bear to keep me on my Path. Otherwise, I lapse back into Asshole Darwin, and no one likes him.”
I flick the tip of his nose. “No one.”
“You like him a little,” he says, his smile turning sly. “Admit it.”
“I endure him to get the Darwin I know is under there somewhere.”
“That Darwin missed you so much, Teddy.”
Slyness fades to melancholy, and I see how much the last few days have cost him. He looks so tired, so worn, our suite’s soft witchlight penetrating his cheek and jaw like sunlight through a shell.
“Have you slept at all when I’ve been gone?”
“A few hours. On the nights Gabe slept in my guest room and I could hear him breathing. Not much the rest of the time.”
“Come on, then. Bed.”
“As long as I get to cuddle my teddy bear.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I ask, pushing him back enough to hop off the table and lead him into the bedroom.
Charlie stirs when I open the door, but Gabe continues snoring softly, worn out by tonight’s emotions.
“Not a chance,” Darwin whispers. He sheds his jeans and shirt, leaving a trail across the bedroom floor. His OCD must be twitching, but he keeps his eyes on mine, following my lead.
When I start to climb into bed, Charlie shifts, pulling Gabe to his chest and opening the side of the bed to me. Charlie pats the empty space as he spoons around Gabe.
“Charlie?” I whisper.
“It’s all good, bean,” he reassures me. “They need to feel you close. I’ve had a week of holding you all night. I’m solid. They’re not. Sleep between them tonight. You and me, we’ll grab some one-on-one time tomorrow.”
“Bench for it,” Darwin says, gently pushing me into Gabe as he slides into bed behind me. “I’m taking Teddy on a date tomorrow.”
I turn over to face him and wiggle in so Gabe’s spooning me. “You are?”
Darwin settles onto his back, stretches out an arm and draws me in until I cuddle up to his side with my head on his shoulder. “I am. I’ve been thinking for weeks about the perfect date. Paris. We’ll start with the Louvre. Then dinner at a five-star restaurant on the Left Bank. Then drinks overlooking the Eiffel Tower. Then ballroom dancing at Rosa Bonheur.”
I try not to wrinkle up my face at him. I do want to see Paris, but that sounds like theVisite de l’enfer. But I don’t want to harsh on his plans. “Sure.”
Darwin chuckles. “And then I remembered who my date was. You’d hate every minute of that, wouldn’t you?”
“Noteveryminute. Food’s good in Paris, or so I’ve heard.”
“Beach or mountain?” he asks, around a yawn.
“Beach.”
“Beer or champagne?”
“Tequila.”
“Bold choice.” He shifts a little in the bed, getting comfortable. “Steak or shrimp?”
“Neither, I’m a vegetarian.”
“What? Since when?”
