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Mr. Zogaib pops his head and only his head in, which is a weird contrast to Other Reality’s Mr. Zogaib, who had no problems invading my space when he was on a quest for moisturizer.
“We still on for later, Olivia?” he asks Aunt Livi, whose casual smile indicates she’s not at all surprised by this question.
My jaw drops, as does Kiersten’s in perfect sister synchronization as we clue in to what is going on.
My aunt fluffs her silver curls. “Yes. I’ll send you a text when I’m done with the girls.”
She winks. Mr. Zogaib turns tomato red, and Kierst and I close our mouths, only to have them fall open again as she throws a second wink in our direction.
Mr. Zogaib slips out as Kierst and I exchangeWhat the hell just happened there?looks while my aunt acts as if it’s just another day in the neighborhood.
“So…” Kierst finally speaks. “Are you gonna tell us how long that has been going on?”
Aunt Livi shrugs. “Oh, we’ve been seeing each other for years. But it hasn’t gotten hot and heavy until the last few weeks.”
“Aunt Livi!” My voice matches my shock.
She, however, waves me off with an eye roll. “Oh, poodle, I’m old, not broken.”
I have questions. Lots of questions. But the doorbell goes off yet again and the face that appears in my doorway is familiar, as are the emerald eyes of the man who will forever be my best friend.
“I came bearing coffee, but it looks like you don’t need me.” Dax eyes my cup, which I proceed to chug, then hold out my hand for caffeine deposit number three this morning. I smile a little as I read the name scrawled on the side:Gemma with a G.
“I think that barista has a thing for you.” Dax puts his arm around my shoulders. “He gave me one hell of a dirty look this morning when I ordered. I’m kind of afraid to drink my coffee.”
He leans in and places a kiss on my temple, his hand traveling down my back until it rests on the waistband of my jeans. His pinky finger slips beneath the fabric, and although its actions remain in the realm of PG-13, the look Dax gives me implies he has a plan for that pinky finger later.
“What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?” he whispers so only I can hear.
Our Dax and Gemma telepathy is still working wonderfully, possibly even better since I moved into his place three weeks ago.
After our love declaration and the making-up-for-lost-time sex-fest that followed, we agreed that as badly as we wanted to move things along, it was probably best that we took our time shifting from best-friend Gemma and Dax to relationship Gemma and Dax.
We still had a boatload of sex. But I kept my basement apartment, and we dated for almost four glorious months beforedeciding that it was silly to keep two places if we were spending every night together and that my rent could be repurposed to get Wilde Sisters Beauty off the ground.
“I have a bunch of inventory coming in this afternoon at two,” I tell him. “Kiersten is going to help me until three, but I may be here late—unless you want to stop by and help?”
Dax’s eyes immediately flick to the back-office desk. It was too big to move, so the previous tenant left it behind. When I first showed Dax this place, he called it the perfect sex desk, and I guess tonight we will find out if that’s true. Ideally twice.
“I have a private client coming in at six, but I’ll come by as soon as he’s done.”
Dax’s store was doing well before I traversed through space and time, but after I returned, I formed a curling alliance one Tuesday with Sunny and the Hammer Curls. Not only is Sunny now our new shared BFF, but she also introduced us to her new husband, pediatric nurse Andre Cortez, who happened to grow up with a certain Toronto rapper who now exclusively wears Dax’s shoes.
Everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.
Wilde Sisters Beauty may not be at the same level of success it was in the other timeline. Still, I’m enjoying every second of building it up to its potential.
“I gotta run, but I love you. Text me if you need any heavy boxes moved or spiders killed.” Dax gives me one last kiss and a butt squeeze.
“I think Kierst has me covered.”
I’ve been babysitting my nieces and nephew every Tuesday night so Kierst could take up CrossFit. On cue, she flexes her muscles. “These glutes were made for lifting.”
“And I prefer to form alliances with my eight-legged friends.”
Dax waves to Aunt Livi and my sister, and as he opens my door to leave, I call out to him.
“I love you, Daxon McGuire.”
