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CHAPTER26
NOVA
Tabbyand I are tucked under a comforter on the couch when Zeke gets home from work. Tears stream down my face as the movie credits roll.
I actively avoid looking at Zeke for multiple reasons. For one, I feel ashamed of our fight, but I’m still frustrated because he just left. Stormed out without resolving anything. He left me to stew. Our communication is shit, and I know a lot of it’s my fault.
The other is I’m sobbing over a movie.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tabitha.” Zeke rolls his eyes at his sister, who I realize is also crying. Why did we choose this horrifyingly sad love story?
Tabby throws me under the bus. “It was Nova’s idea.”
“You know,” he says, waggling his finger between us, “I don’t know if I like it that you two get along so well.”
Zeke sheds his coat and takes off his hat. He’s dirty, and I always like it. I’m like one of those pervy rich girls who fantasize about men who work with their hands. Even when I’m mad at him, the depth of my desire for him is always lurking—just one more thing inside me to wrestle down.
“I’m going to go shower, and after, I need to talk to Nova, ‘kay?” Zeke raises an eyebrow at Tabby. “Alone.”
My heart skips, and Tabby purses her lips like she wasn’t expecting to get scolded this afternoon. “Well, then. Alone.”
She draws the word out, and my skipping heart plummets. We have to talk about our fight, I know we do. But I worry he’ll just press me for things I can’t give him. Ask me questions I can’t answer. I hear the shower start, and Tabby stretches.
“I like having someone to watch this stuff with.” She groans and wipes the tears from her glasses with her shirt. “My whole family thinks I’m ridiculous, but I like it.”
“You should like it. Who cares what they think?”
Tabby smiles at me. It’s a sad kind of smile. She stands and pats my head like I’m adorably naïve, which is interesting coming from her.
“Okay, Dr. Nova. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The bathroom door opens, and Zeke comes out, wrapped in a towel with a stern look on his face. Every damn day, I have to look at him like this.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Tabby mumbles then disappears through the back door to the laundry room.
Zeke moves to the counter and pulls something out of a bag. It’s a stack of books. He moves to the couch and sets them on the coffee table.
“What’s that?” I ask, but I’m distracted by the beads of water catching the light as they run down his abs. Does he even dry himself?
“They’re books.” He laughs, and I swat his stomach. He catches my hand against his damp skin and presses my palm to the thick muscle. My mouth dries out, and I swallow sand, unable to speak. “Nova, I’m sorry. About earlier. I’m really sorry I said those things. I was frustrated, and I shouldn’t have put pressure on you like that.”
I absorb the depth of sincerity in his voice, hooking my fingers slightly to dig into his skin. “I’m sorry, too.”
He looks down at me, still sitting in front of him, my nose level with the towel around his hips. He snaps out of whatever thought he was in with a jolt and holds up a finger. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”
He disappears into his room for less than a moment before he’s back out in sweatpants and a t-shirt. At first, I’m a little disappointed he put clothes on, but by the way he’s moving, I can tell he’s got some sort of mission to fulfill.
I laid down on the couch when he was changing, and now he crawls over me, wedging himself between the back of the couch and my body. Figgy hisses from his place draped over the back of the cushions but doesn’t move, which is progress for sure.
“Can I talk to him?” Zeke asks, and my jaw hangs open. I’m not sure how to manage the thrumming of my heart.
“Sure.”
“Hey,” he says to my belly, and a grin splits my lips at the absurdity of it all. “So, I listened to this audiobook at work today, and it said you can hear me. That if I want you to know me when you get out of there, I should talk to you.”
He hooks his finger under the hem of my shirt and pulls it up to show my belly as if that will help with the sound. I snicker, trying to hold it in—trying not to discourage this because it’s sweet and he’s trying, and I have to give him that. He’s listening to parenting audiobooks at work, for God’s sake.
He reaches across me to the coffee table to grab a book, tattered and torn up at the edges. The movement forces him to hover over me, his face close to mine, the heat of his body blazing against my skin. My laugh dies away immediately, and that urge to kiss him overcomes me again. He catches me staring and pauses. Maybe wondering the same thing. All I have to do is tip my chin, and those lips will be on mine again. How often do we need to be here before I am brave enough to do it?
