Holy shit. That’s it. I’m not invited and he’s trying to work out how to tell me.
Tom moves to the dining room and risks turning the light on. It’s my little photography studio now. Boxes of merchandise sit against the wall. “This is what you do these days?”
“Yep.” I dig in my bag of marshmallows. Time to plug this aching void inside. I hit sh
uffle on Loretta’s retro stereo and the Cure comes on. The void gapes wider in a delicious way.
“Mugs.” He says it doubtfully. “You take photos of mugs so they can be sold on websites? I definitely thought Jamie had made that up.”
“It’s true.” I pack my mouth with sweet white foam and sip some wine to dissolve it all. “Not just mugs. Don’t look in that one,” I warn Tom when he goes to look in the boxes.
“What is it?” He flips open the box lid. “Okay then.”
“It’s surprisingly hard to get the lighting right on a ten-inch purple dildo.”
“I’m sure it’s impossible.” He is scandalized to the core. It is adorable. He looks back down, unable to resist.
“Don’t go digging in that dirty box, Tom, you’ll need brain bleach.” I have the strongest feeling he wants to.
I’d give my left ventricle to know what he thought about all that silicone. Disgusting? Interesting? On par with what’s in his navy cargo pants? It’s so hard to tell when he looks up. He rearranges his expression into prim disapproval.
God, such a good boy. I grin like a shark. “They let me keep stuff sometimes.” I watch as he skitters around the room off walls and furniture like a big pinball. Then I relieve him. “I’ve got so many mugs.”
“Mugs,” he says again like it’s the cause of all that is wrong in this world. “I don’t think this is very . . . you. You’re an award-winning portrait photographer.”
“Au contraire. Wistful portraits of sex toys are very much me these days.” I shrug at his expression. “Hey, I just shoot what they send me. I’ve personally taken every single product shot on the entire Internet.”
My voice blurs drunkenly at the edges and I know he hears it. “No one thinks about who takes the photos. They just click and add that dildo to their cart.”
I arch my back, unclip my bra, and sag back down with a groan. Out the armhole and I toss the bra onto the pile. Tom averts his eyes through the whole thing.
Except somehow, I feel like he watched me do it.
Chapter 5
I can’t stop myself from pressing my little wound again. I don’t feel like Tom’s scolded me for it. I deserve a lecture.
“Jamie said even Loretta would have said I was crazy to pass up that developer’s offer. Maybe I would have reacted differently if I knew I’d basically lose my brother over it.”
Wow. I sounded completely normal saying that out loud.
Tom says in such a kind voice that I want to cry, “You haven’t lost him, DB. You’ve just pissed him off.”
“I’ve witnessed him ice out so many people over the years. I never thought it would be me. Remember that guy he worked with, Glenn? He made him repay a loan when his wife was in the maternity ward.”
“Yeah. Because Glenn got the promotion he wanted. He’s so good to the people in his circle—”
I huff. “And it’s a tiny circle.”
“But if he’s crossed, or slighted, or he thinks he’s been ‘betrayed,’ he just turns into . . .”
“Ice. He’s ice. Just like I’m ice.”
“You’re fire,” Tom says back without thought. “You’re opposites.”
There’s another tidbit. Another surprise view on me. Any man who saw me at work tonight would have said I was cold to the bone. “I want to be ice.”
“Take it from me, ice is the worst. Please stay fiery.” He pauses and sighs. He’s sad about something. “Anyway, I don’t think you did the wrong thing. You’d be okay with an apartment complex here? And going against her final wishes?”