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“What was the gift? A butt plug?”

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to be funny or if she just assumed the gift must have been inappropriate to spark a fight. She could only go on past history of the men I’d dated. And if I had been talking about any of them, she’d wouldn’t have been so off base with a butt plug. But Dexter would never do that. If he wanted anal sex, he’d just suggest it—not pretend it was a gift. Autumn was going to think I was an idiot when I told her what had sparked our disagreement. “No, he bought me a scarf. It’s really beautiful.”

“And you freaked out because . . .?”

She was going to think I was a maniac. I took a deep breath and exhaled slow. “There were a lot of reasons. But he had a theory about me. He thinks I’m not used to accepting presents, receiving stuff.”

“Did he mean gifts or is this an oral sex issue?”

I laughed, relieved she’d lightened the moment. I never had a problem receiving Dexter’s tongue. That’s where his argument failed completely—a point I’d be sure to make if we ever argued about this again. “He thinks because I pay Mom and Dad’s rent that I’m not used to . . .” It was a little awkward to talk about this with Autumn, since she was someone in my life that I helped out. But she was younger. And my parents weren’t stepping up to help her, so what did he expect? That I would just leave her high and dry? If I could help, of course I was going to.

“He’s right.” She sighed. “I like this guy and I’ve never even met him.”

“Wait, what do you mean he’s right? I haven’t even told you what he’s said.”

“Well, you’ve said bits and it doesn’t take a genius to fill in the rest. You’re not used to a two-way relationship. You’re used to being the giver, the caretaker. And everyone else takes from you.”

“Life isn’t perfect. If it was, there’d be zero calories in fried chicken and I’d wake up looking like Irina Shayk.”

My sister grinned and her smile filled the entire phone screen. I wish I was there. Or that she was here. I wanted us to grab the duvet from the bed, snuggle under it and watch America’s Got Talent while eating ice cream straight from the carton. “I didn’t say anything about perfect. But you’re a natural giver. And you’ve never been in a relationship with a guy you really like. Ever. He could really take advantage.”

She was sweet to be concerned. I was usually the protective one with her boyfriends. I shook my head. “Dexter’s not like that.”

“Bet you cook for him. Go down on him.”

“Well, I like to do both, so we’re good.”

“Just remember—it’s a two-way street. I like the fact that he bought you something. It’s nice. And you should let him. It’s what good boyfriends should do. I read it somewhere. And one of these days, I’ll be treating you. I think you can rule Mom and Dad out on that score.”

I snorted. As if I was banking on that. Neither of them ever had more than five dollars in the bank and they weren’t particularly practical. If they were stopped by the police for a broken tail light, left to their own devices they’d end up in jail. And it would never be because they’d ever done anything terrible—they’d just piss people off, forget dates and not turn up when and where they were supposed to. It was easier for me to step in to pay the fine for the broken tail light, and then there wasn’t a danger of me having to pay lawyers’ fees for a jury trial. That was just life with our parents.

“Exactly. It’s totally natural that you’d have a warped idea of what your role is in a relationship. Let him do nice stuff for you. And if he doesn’t, dump him. Kindness goes both ways.”

It was simple the way she said it. And it was pretty much what Dexter had said. I didn’t know if it was because I was hearing it from Autumn or because I’d had a couple of days to think about the fight, but the accusation that I wasn’t used to getting what I should in a relationship seemed to make more sense today.

“How do you know when they’re doing too much?” I asked. “Should I keep a list? Make sure I only do something nice for him when he does something nice for me?” That seemed a little over the top, but I was a novice, apparently. Surely a Hermes scarf was too much. How could I ever repay him?

“No, Hollie, you don’t keep a tally. You’re just caring for each other—him for you, you for him. Equal doesn’t mean identical.”


Tags: Louise Bay The Mister Romance