“Who?”
Cracking a smile, he says, “God, you’re just a baby, aren’t you?”
I smack him in the stomach. “Shut up, grandpa. I’m not a baby.”
“If we do get married, this is going to be our first dance. I’m calling it.”
I can’t help smiling. “You think there’s even a remote chance of us getting married?”
“You don’t?” he questions.
“I think I was more ready to marry you our first night in Vegas, with Vince and Carly, than I am now. No offense.”
Chuckling and shaking his head, he says, “None taken.”
I like him relaxed like this. A less secure man wouldn’t be this relaxed after the scene he just witnessed. Seeking to reward him, I grab one of my pink macaroons and bring it to his lips, feeding him a bite. He takes a small bite and it reminds me of Easter. The way he smiled at me when I was feeding him jelly beans. Some of that tenderness comes rushing back as his eyes meet mine with the same amused fondness they held then.
“Good, aren’t they?” I ask.
“Delicious.”
I take a bite of the same macaroon, my gaze dropping to his lips. “Tell me something. You clearly have loads more experience than I have at… well, everything.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Perks of being a grandpa.”
I crack a smile. “So, you know how they say the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone new? How true is that?”
“Oh boy. I’m gonna have a hard time finding objectivity here, you realize that, right?”
“Hey, I am relying entirely on your wise guidance. Tell your libido to slow its roll so your brain can give me good advice.”
“Why don’t you ask your sister? She’s probably better equipped for this one.”
“I can’t. She doesn’t know I was ever under anyone but you, so if I ask that, she won’t be unbiased either. She will enthusiastically assure me that I should definitely get under someone else, thinking that she’s advising me away from you.”
“Good point.”
“I could ask Mia,” I suggest.
“She won’t be any help on this. All right, let me work this out. The answer isn’t the same for every person. It is true for some people. Sometimes we build people up in our minds, especially after a break-up. We gloss over the bad and focus on the good, rewriting the history and giving ourselves more to be sad over. If you wallow, you will be sad. If you legitimately want to get past that person and you go out, then yes, getting under someone else can be an effective way of moving on. That said, if you’re still wallowing and fucking someone else is a desperation move, you’re more likely to feel like shit afterward.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s not super helpful. Maybe I’ll text my roommate.”
Cracking a smile, he grabs the remote. “Let’s just watch the next episode of Smallville.”
“That’s always a good answer to life’s problems,” I say, turning my attention back to the television.
Somewhere between episode two and episode three, I fell asleep.
When my eyes open again, I am still fully dressed and tucked under the covers. The room is bright from the sun streaming in through the window. I don’t immediately understand why I dread the daylight, but then I remember Sin’s date last night. If it’s daylight, that means Sin may have taken that goddamn waitress back to his house. She could have woken up in my spot this morning, his muscular, tattooed arms wrapped around her waist. His scarred, rough hands may have traveled every inch of her skin. That beautiful mouth may have been places even more intimate.
I want to throw up, and I don’t think it’s because I ate dessert for four last night.
The bed dips as Rafe takes a seat. “Good timing. I was just about to wake you up.”