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He sucked in a breath, a flare of warmth lighting up his eyes. He nodded and clasped Zee’s elbows gently, leaning forward to press a kiss on her forehead. “You have my word.”
She pulled out of his grasp and stood up straighter, her chin lifting defiantly. “Good. Let’s go Flynn.”
She was lying in my arms, both of us curled up on her plush sofa. I was in heaven. Nirvana. This was even better than the sex. More meaningful. Zee drew circles on my chest with her fingertips, playing with the collar of my shirt. I ran my fingers through her still-wet hair, massaging her scalp. We were quiet, comfortable in each other’s presence. This was how we’d always been, but now that I knew what it was like to have more, I never wanted to give it up.
Zee sighed and nuzzled into me. “I like it here, but I want to be on the water, not moored.”
We were at Marina Mirage, just outside of Surfers Paradise. It was the nearest marina to my apartment but also Zee’s least favourite. She hated the hustle and bustle of the waterway there, never mind the traffic on the roads and people everywhere. It was right along the tourist strip, and whenever she was moored there, people always came out in droves to look at her yacht. It was why all the privacy blinds were drawn and the sliding doors closed.
“I can ask Ry to take us out.”
“He’s not here.” She pouted before rolling her eyes. “He’s gone grocery shopping.”
“Oh, poor baby,” I teased, giving her my own pout. She didn’t hesitate, snagging the cushion I was resting my head on and yanking it out from under me. She playfully pushed it down on my face—pressing more against my forehead than my mouth and nose—and laughed one of those mwuh-ha-ha laughs. I snorted, giggling until my cheeks were hurting and lungs burning. I’d had a smile plastered on my face all afternoon, and this was icing on the cake. When she added a twist to my nipple, I gasped and cried out, “Mercy!”
Zee relented and lifted the pillow, waiting until I was sitting up in a crunch before stuffing it behind my head. “I like this couch,” I mumbled and sighed happily.
The whole yacht was amazing. It should be for thirty-odd-million dollars. Zee had fallen in love with it the moment she’d seen plans for it on Insta. Within weeks, she’d travelled to Italy and bought it. Somehow she’d roped Ryder and another boatie mate of his to navigate the yacht home, and she’d rarely spent a night off it since.
The man loved this yacht as much as Zee did. Ry insisted that he maintain everything, keeping it sleek, spotless, and in perfect working order. He wasn’t even as possessive about Zee’s plane, and it was his idea to buy that.
I was just happy with the couch. I’d proven over and over again that I could fall asleep on it at any time of day or night. Everything inside me was quiet and calm when I was here. I always unclenched. Maybe it was the neutral tones—timber floors, cream furniture, white walls, and a couple of white orchids on the buffet. It was more likely the uncluttered surfaces and minimalist decorating Zee had gone with. The apartment I lived in, also courtesy of Zee, was a lot like that too, but darker and more masculine.
“I got you something,” Zee said excitedly. She was bouncing in her chair with one foot underneath her butt, while I sat on her bed. It was how we studied together—or pretended we were studying. I used any excuse I could not to go home. It was worse than it had ever been there, and tonight I wanted to be as far away as possible.
“Oooh, what?” I asked.
“Close your eyes.”
I did, holding my hands out. She placed a small box in my hands about the size of a cigarette packet. It was light too.
“Okay, open them.”
The box was wrapped in blue paper the colour of the sky. It was my favourite colour, the one Zee said matched my eyes. She was always so kind to me, so unlike the others. I’d been picked on for as long as I could remember for being the kid who lived in the junk house. You could smell the funk from two blocks away when the wind caught it—a mix of rat piss, decaying paper, and dead animals. No matter how much I scrubbed myself, I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose and off my skin and clothes.
The wrapping had “happy birthday sweet 16” written on it in marker.
“Dad has another present for you, but this one is from me.”
I bit back the flood of emotion that threatened to bring tears to my eyes. Zee had never once forgotten my birthday. I wish I could say the same thing about my own parents. But I was used to it by now.
One day…. I couldn’t wait to move out and get away from them.
“Open it,” she squealed, bouncing so high in her chair that I was surprised it didn’t tip over.
I tore away the paper and lifted the lid on the box. Inside was a key and a black fob of some sort. “What is it?”
“An apartment.”
I was waiting for the punchline. The “gotcha” moment.
But she was serious. Her smile was gone, her eyes wide as she waited for me to say something.
An apartment.
I blinked. Opened my mouth and snapped it shut again.
An apartment? Was she serious?
