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* * *
Big Guy: What are you having for dinner?
Me: Spaghetti.
Big Guy: Homemade?
Me: If adding stuff to jarred sauce counts, then yes.
Big Guy: Send me a pic.
Umm…
I debate for a moment, then hold the phone up, check the lighting, and snap the photo.
Me: *sends selfie*
Oh, shit! Did he mean the spaghetti?
Big Guy: Damn, Angel. You need to warn a man.
Uhh… what does that mean?
Big Guy: I was expecting carbs, not your pretty face.
Big Guy: For the record, this is way better than a plate pic.
He called me pretty.
Me: *sends photo of my half-eaten plate of spaghetti*
* * *
Big Guy: Valentine, tell me you’re in town this week.
I lookat the calendar on my wall, like confirming it’s still Monday will change my answer.
Me: Dominic, tell me you’re joking.
My phone vibrates with a call.
“Hello,” I answer, and my voice sounds breathy with nerves.
We’ve been texting daily for the whole month of October, but we don’t talk on the phone that often. So knowing I’m about to hear his voice has my heart thudding.
“Hey, Mama.”
Since I’m sitting in bed, where no one can see me, I let my eyes roll back and mouth,oh my god.
Seriously, why is that so hot?
“Tell me you’re in town this week,” he demands.
I groan. “I can’t. I leave tomorrow and then fly home Saturday.”
“Of fucking course.” Dominic sounds resigned.
“Should I even ask?” I bite my lip.
