If you behave, maybe I’ll take you with us on our trip to Italy.
And it wasn’t just Betsy. There were others.
You’re important to me. How can you not know that?
Of course I’ll come by to see you.
The only one who never played that game is Elizabeth, but she’s above such petty bullshit.
So is Ava. She’s never said she’d do something then broken her word.
What about Blake?
I frown. If she claimed Blake said that shit to her, he probably did, even if he denies it. He probably forgot because he says shit to everyone he meets, kind of the way most people wouldn’t remember a particular meal from six months back. When you eat all the time…
I close my eyes and imagine an invisible metronome is in my room, slowly ticking away. The trick always helps me fall asleep, no matter how agitated I am.
Bit by bit my muscles loosen. My eyelids grow heavy and my brain starts to drift. Air fills my lungs, then leaves in a steady rhythm.
The phone in my hand vibrates, jerking me out of drowsiness. I stare at the text.
You asleep?
I blink myself fully awake, then smile. Yes.
The phone rings. “Good lord, woman, can’t a man get any rest around you?”
“Rise and shine.”
Her tone is light, but I can sense some tension running underneath. “Are you all right?”
She hesitates. “I’m fine. Just tired…and I miss you.”
“Miss you, too.” I make a face even though she can’t see me. “I wish you hadn’t called your foster parents. We could’ve spent the night together, then surprised them tomorrow.”
I hear nothing but the sound of her slow breathing for a minute. “Probably a bad idea,” she says finally. “They hate surprises.”
“Even if the surprise is good?”
“Even then.”
There is a hint of listlessness in her voice that’s making my scalp prickle. “Did something happen?”
“No.” She sounds genuinely confused. “Why do you ask?”
Damn. So if that’s not it, then what? She seemed fine on the flight home. God, I’d give my left foot to have her with me right now, so I could look into her eyes and make sure she’s really all right. I hate having the feeling that something’s going on, but not being able to act on it, make things better for her.
Suddenly I’m not certain that bringing her home was such a great idea. I didn’t factor her foster parents in. They weren’t much of a presence two or three years ago, and I assumed it would be the same again.
“Hoping for a reason to get you to come over,” I say finally, deciding to make a joke of it, rather than get really serious when she’s too far away to hold in my arms.
She snorts, then giggles quietly. “You’re awful.”
“If by ‘awful’ you mean ‘desperately horny’, then yes…”
“Are you? Horny?”
“Yeah. But the real problem is I miss having you by my side,” I answer honestly. Being with her, just holding her hand and sitting in silence, is incomparably preferable to an orgasm…unless I’m climaxing with her.