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Matthew chuckles. The deep sound rekindles the butterflies in my chest. “Seems only fair.”
“What about you? You didn’t put any ice cream in your profile.”
“I suppose I didn’t,” he says. “I love a good creemee.”
Huh?If I were drinking water right now, I would’ve performed a spit take all over him. “A what?”
“It’s a Vermont thing,” he explains casually. Clearly not picking up on the pure provocation of the word. “Avery would know what it is.”
That doesn’t sound like something either of my coworkers should be discussing. Is it a new sex move?
Goodness.My pulse quickens. I’m severely out of the loop.
I lean in close, lowering my voice so the cabin crew can’t hear us. “Is that how Kaia was born?”
“What?” Matthew’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Like, is it some kind of slang for, you know…um,you know.” He doesn’t seem to register my meaning. “For…doing it?”
He erupts in a fit of laughter that reverberates around the jet.
“It’s just soft serve ice cream. Where’s your mind, Molly?” He swipes at his jet-black hair, his biceps rippling in his shirt. “Tsk, tsk. That’s positively filthy.”
“Oh.” My cheeks probably match my fuchsia Ulla Johnson manet blouse. “You have to admit, it does sound a little dirty.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” He shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll never be able to order one again without laughing.”
My lips part, my legs going with them.Gosh. How do I play this coolly? “Maybe when we get back home I can order one for you. You know, so you don’t laugh.”
I positively sound like a robot right now.
“I’d love for you to order mycreemee for me, Mol.” He keeps a straight face for a millisecond before bursting into laughter again. The anxiety and stress of our arrangement thaws slightly.
But then reality sets in.
Will we be friends after the divorce? With neither of us staying at ORO, will we keep in touch? Are these my final weeks with Matthew?
It’s like each time I enjoy myself, I ruin the moment by worrying about the future—a future I so desperately need for myself.
Game face, girl. Put on your game face.
“We have our ice cream orders down.” He scrolls on his phone. “Huh, but you didn’t list a favorite color?”
Matthew’s eyes connect with mine. Would it be totally weird if I told him that I liked the specific shade of blue of his eyes, with flecks of another color I can’t make out from this far?
I settle with, “I like all of them.”
“Every color?” Matthew’s grip on his phone grows firmer, bringing out the veins in his hands.
“If I could live inside a rainbow, I would.” I try to suppress my swelling smile. “What about you?”
His gaze glides over my curls, lips, and nose before meeting my eyes. “I’d have to go with red.”
A surge of excitement dances across my skin. Does he appreciate my hair as much as I appreciate his eyes?
This exchange of information feels like flirting. I don’t want it to end.
I have an overwhelming urge to close the gap between us. I stretch out one leg slightly closer to his. The distance diminishes, and my palms become sweaty.
