Her shorts are sitting on top of the closed bag as though she tossed them there as a side note. If someone walked into this room right now, they’d think that gym bag was supposed to be there. I kind of feel that way too.
Scratching my head, I walk into the hallway and hear music playing softly. Sunshine pours in from the windows.
Walking as lightly as I can, I pause in the doorway. She’s buttering toast over the sink. Crumbs falls into the basin as she rakes the knife along the bread. The movement slow as she looks through the window with a thoughtful gaze.
Her hair is a wild mess piled on top of her head, and she’s changed into a pair of my sweatpants. They’re two sizes two big and nearly fall off her waist, but I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.
Hadley in my clothes in my kitchen. Happy.
“Hey,” I say before I can get in my head too deep. I ignore the way my chest feels like it’s going to burst and open the refrigerator. I don’t need anything, but maybe it’ll cool me down.
The corners of her lips turn up before she looks over her shoulder. There’s a hint of trepidation there. “I made breakfast.”
Overriding my natural reaction to walk across the room and plant a kiss on her lips, I shut the refrigerator door. “What can I do to help?”
“Don’t die when you eat the bacon.” She makes a face. “The expiration date was last week, but it smelled fine.”
“Shit. I don’t even know when I bought that.”
“Or half the things in the refrigerator,” she mumbles. “Seriously. I threw away a bunch of crap this morning.”
“What did you throw away?” I say, letting my jaw fall open just to rile her up.
“Nothing you’ll ever need or it wouldn’t have been expired.”
“You don’t know what I need.”
She walks toward me, an arch to her lips. She reaches right in front of me, almost brushing against me but not quite, and pulls out two plates. “Oh, I think I do know what you need.”
My breathing stops as I adjust to her proximity. I’m suddenly very, very awake.
The sweetness of her skin drifts around me, luring me to touch her. The pout of her lips begs for a kiss, the sliver of skin between the hem of her shirt and the top of my sweatpants taunting to be gripped.
My eyes narrow as I squelch the reaction I want to make. “Humor me. What do you think I need?”
She falls back on her feet slowly. It’s clear she didn’t anticipate this question and is unprepared to give me an answer. I’m not sure what kind of an answer to expect, either, and I’m not sure why in the hell I asked that this early.
Turning away, she begins to fill one of the plates. “This morning, you need four strips of bacon, two eggs over medium, and two slices of toast.”
“Over medium, huh?”
“I know you like over easy, but I overcooked them because I dropped a jar of mayonnaise that expired last year.” She shoots me a look. “Last. Year.”
“Good thing I like them over medium these days, huh?”
She nods. “Good thing.”
“I also like coffee,” I say, walking away before I get too comfortable watching her move around my kitchen. “You want some?”
“Yes, please.”
We work silently, me making coffee and her getting the food to the table. Every now and then, we catch each other’s eye and smile or sort of softly laugh at nothing in particular. It’s weird sharing the space with her but so damn amazing at the same time. It has all the hallmarks I love about Nana’s Sunday dinners but at home. With Hadley.
This could get me in trouble, yet I have no intention of ending it. Not right now. This may never happen again, and I want to suck it up for all it’s worth while I can get it. It gives me a quietness that comes from the inside that I haven’t felt since we lived together.
When she stayed with me before she got pregnant, and then when we lived together while in Ohio, my favorite part of the day was waking up next to her. The morning routine of getting ready—preparing for the day, having her there and knowing she’d be there when I came home—was the best part of my life so far.
We sit down. She curls one leg under her.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“I think I kind of passed out. I remember sitting on the edge of your bed and hearing you talk and then nothing until I woke up this morning.” She reaches for a piece of toast. “Which brings me to this question. How did I get in your bed?”
She lifts a brow as she takes a bite of toast.
“You seemed to enjoy my mattress, so I tucked you in.”
Her lips part, the furrow in her brow warning me she’s about to argue. Then strangely, the wrinkles vanish. “Thank you.”
“Wow.” I laugh, slicing into my eggs. “That was unexpected.”
“What? I’m being polite.”
“I know. Unexpected.” She taps my leg with her foot under the table. “I’m not sure if I should thank you for holding me so tight I couldn’t move this morning.”
My fork almost drops out of my hand. The tines clink against the china before I regain control. “I did?”
“You did. And it was kind of nice.” Her shoulder comes to her chin in the sweetest gesture. Batting her eyelashes, she grins. “Now, enough of this being nice stuff. What can we fight about?”
I pick up my coffee cup and sit back in my chair. She rattles on about a story Kallie told her about Cross, and I tune out. Watching her talk—her hands flying through the air, her eyes bright and happy as she jabbers away—is enough.
Sipping the caffeine instead of guzzling it like I usually do, I enjoy the peace of a Sunday morning instead of avoiding it, which is a new thing. A thing I could get used to. A thing I’d love to replicate with her.
But as I begin to process that idea, her words from last night come back to mind. “You do a lot of things a hundred times and nothing bad happens. You better hope it doesn’t start catching up with you.”
It will catch up with me. It always does.
“Are you listening to me?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I sit my cup down and grab a piece of bacon. “Nana called and ripped my ass about church.”
She snorts. “I’m not sure you should say ripped my ass and church in the same sentence. While not quite sacrilegious, it doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay. She busted my balls. Better?”
“I’m with Nana. You needed Jesus today.”
“I’ll pray extra hard at bedtime to make up for it,” I say, crunching down on the meat. “Anyway, she’s making dinner and demanded I come.”
Hadley’s fork rests on her plate. The light in her eyes dims as she reaches for a napkin. “You should.” She swallows hard. “I need to see Emily today, so I can have her pick me up here, or you can run me by on the way.”
That’s the best solution. The easiest. The safest. And it absolutely won’t work.
“Nah, see, neither of those will work,” I say with a casual shrug.
“Cross can come and get me.”
I watch her until she lifts her eyes to mine. She’s adorable when she’s unsure, when she lets her guard down long enough to let me see it. I should be as unsure as fuck about this, but I’m not. I’ve not been so certain about anything in a long time.
“Nana said you have to come,” I say. Even though that’s not totally the truth.
“Oh, I don’t know …”
“Tell it to Nana. I’m not.” I take my cup back to the Keurig. As I pop in another pod, I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s grinning with her hands folded together in front of her face. “She said we’re eating at three, which means we have to be there by two. She gets really pissed if you show up when it’s time to eat.”
“I can understand that.”
The coffee stops. I take my mug and walk back to the table. Instead of sitting, I lean against the chair. She looks up at me with big, wide honey-colored eyes.
Sunday dinner has never looked so appetizing.
“It’s eleven,” I say. “That gives us a few hours.”
She gulps. “To do what?”
I take a long, intentional drink and watch her squirm. Once she’s sufficiently worked up, I swallow. “Do you know how to prune rose bushes?”
She punches me in the stomach and laughs, getting to her feet. “I hate you.” She laughs in what I think is relief. “I hate you so much.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. You know I know how to prune rose bushes.” Her hair wobbles as she reaches for her plate.
I don’t know what it is about this moment that does it, but I can’t help myself. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my chest. She gasps but doesn’t fight it. Every place her body touches mine lights up. Her eyes do the same as they meet mine with a hopeful anticipation.
I could say something funny here and let her go, and nothing would be worse for wear. But we’re going for what feels right, and nothing feels more right than her in my arms.
If it bites me in the ass later, then it does.
I touch my lips to hers. We melt together in perfect sync, retracing the steps of a dance we perfected years ago. Her lips are soft, her breath sweet, and her hands perfect as they rest on my chest.
I break it way before I want to. The smacking sound sings through the room just like in the movies. She watches me back away, the smile on her face matching mine.
“I’m gonna get a shower,” I say, adjusting my cock as discreetly as I can. “I’ll clean this up if you leave it.”
She doesn’t stop grinning. “I’ll get it. I need to call Emily and cancel our plans for today, so I’ll do it while I talk to her.”
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine,” she says.
As I walk by her, we both laugh.
Twenty-Five