“Wow,” she breathes. Her hip bumps into mine, and I keep mine there, our bodies side-to-side. I’ll never tire of hers. “I haven’t thought about it much lately, but… there’s such a difference between us.”
I glance down. “We’re different in some areas, yeah.”
“I meant financially,” she says, shaking her head. “Sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have used the F-word.”
“F-word stands for finance? Man, I’ve always wondered.”
She laughs, reaching for the plug. Drains the sink. “I just mean, when it’s only the two of us here, I usually forget that you technically own my aunt’s business. That your last name is on hotels all over the country or that you can afford to order takeout nonstop.”
I lean against the counter and watch her flit around the kitchenette. She needs to step past me every time she passes, and on one such pass, I catch her.
Wrap my hands around her waist.
“I think I prefer it when it’s just the two of us here.”
She runs her hands up my shoulders. “I think I do too.”
“Does it bother you?” I ask. “The difference?”
Her hand smooths my hair back from my forehead, and this close, with the kitchen light, I can make out the light-green color of her eyes.
“No. Although… no.”
“Although what?”
“I don’t know how to tell my aunt. About us. I mean, technically, I don’t really know if there’s anything to tell yet? You said you didn’t do relationships.”
Her eyes are on the lock of my hair she’s smoothing back. The tentative hope in her voice feels like a stab, the sweetest poison. In the end, I give her a compromise.
“Are you happy, Summer? With me?”
She nods and her eyes meet mine. “Yes,” she says.
“I’m glad,” I say, tilting her head up to meet mine. “I’m happy with you too.”
22
Summer
I wake up to a warm bed, a warm man, and a door being softly nudged open. Ace’s nose bumps against my hand a few seconds later. I turn my fingers into his fur. One hand on each of my boys, I think, tracing Anthony’s arm around my waist with my other.
He’s stayed the night, as he’s often done. Carried me from the couch to the bed. Despite my cracked bedroom window, the summer air is stifling. Our bodies stick together in the heat.
Neither of us has moved away.
He grumbles behind me as I shift, arm flexing around my waist.
“Just checking the time.”
“You don’t need the time,” he says, voice raspy. “It’s Saturday.”
“Saturdays are worth seizing.”
“Christ. Have you ever just spent half the day in bed? Doing nothing?”
I turn onto my back, and his hand slips beneath my camisole, large hand splayed on my stomach. There’s a thud as Ace lies down beside the bed. “Of course I have.”
“Really,” Anthony says. “When?”