Except I’ve met his, and he obviously doesn’t mind about that.
I could let it go, because this could easily become an issue and I don’t want anything to spoil what we have. On the other hand, if I don’t say something, that’s going to be a whole new issue of its own, even if itisonly inside my head.
“Because I’d like you to meet her. I’m not suggesting we all go out somewhere together. She has a hectic social life.” That’s true enough. It doesn’t matter if I’d had a half-formed idea that we might all go to a nightclub together.
“I work Saturdays.”
I’d forgotten about that. Sometimes he works on Sundays, too. It’s definitely a valid reason why he prefers me to come here, but I dig my heels in anyway.
“How about I stay here tonight, and you come to my apartment tomorrow when you finish work?”
There’s a long silence. His face gives nothing away, and I have a terrible feeling I’ve pushed him too far. If I have, then my secret conviction we have a lot more going for us than just sex is nothing more than my over-romantic imagination.
And then he speaks. “Okay.”
…
I arrive home late Saturday morning, after spending the night with Zach, and Charity is curled up on the sofa in her PJs nursing a hangover. I texted her yesterday to let her know I’d be back today, but I didn’t tell her Zach’s staying tonight, as that’s a face-to-face conversation. She peers at me from over the top of a cushion.
“Do you haveanyidea what you’re doing?”
I smile sweetly. “Something you’ve been telling me to do for years. Having the best sex of my life.”
“Ha ha.” She sits up and hugs the cushion to her chest. “You’re playing with fire. You know that.”
I should. She’s told me often enough. “Yes, Mom.”
“Don’t throw my words back at me.” She glares at me, but it’s only a front, as she’s trying not to laugh. How many times in the past has she mockingly called me “Mom” when I’ve only been trying to give her sisterly advice?
“Anyway, you’ll be able to meet him yourself tonight. He’s staying over.”
“Jesus, Grace. That’s not a good idea.” She’s not messing about anymore.
I fold my arms. “Look, he’s not some depraved criminal.”
Don’t forget he fixed my car.
Well, maybe he skates near the edge, but it’s not like he’s out drug running or anything.
And how would I know if he was?
“I’m not saying he is. You can be a criminal without being depraved.”
Okay, now I’m slightly pissed off with her. “Most of the guys you date aren’t exactly Ivy League types.”
“I don’t bring them back here, either.”
“Zach isn’t just a one-night stand. We’ve been seeing each other for almost a month.”
“So you’re saying he’s your significant other, and he hasn’t been screwing around behind your back?”
I stomp into the kitchen, which leads directly from the living room, and switch on the coffee machine. When she doesn’t follow up with any more snarky comments, I flatten my palms on the granite counter top that separates the two areas and glare at her.
“No, he isn’t my S.O., but hemightbe.”
The admission hangs in the air between us, like an ax ready to fall. I groan and bury my face in my hands. It’s something I’ve been trying not to face, but now I’ve put the words out there, the unlikelihood of Zach and I ever having something serious between us is magnified a thousandfold.
“Okay.” Charity heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I guess I should reserve judgment until I’ve met him. Maybe there’s more to him than big biceps, hot tattoos, and a huge dick.”
