I drop my phone in my purse and stand. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later.”
I give Vivian a quick hug.
“Don’t overthink things,” she says. “Just have fun.”
“Thank you.” She just gets me. “Bye Leo. Bye Isla.”
“Bye, Al.”
With that, I head down the stairs to the parking garage, keys in hand.
“Where do you want to go?”I ask as we pull out of the parking garage.
Guns N’ Roses fills the car, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me, equal parts my dad and the early days with Jensen.
They both love eighties rock. My dad played it nonstop growing up, and it became such a trigger after I moved to New York. One night, a little over a month into dating, Jensen had me over for dinner. I remember it was right after we’d slept together for the first time because all we wanted to do was stay in andhave sex. We ordered takeout, and he turned on a playlist filled with the classics: Guns N’ Roses, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath.
Buried heartache came knocking, and I tried to ignore it. But when R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” came on? I almost lost it.
I’d shoved it all down for so long, I didn’t expect the emotion to hit so hard. It came out of nowhere. I asked him to change the playlist, and when he asked why, I told him about my dad for the first time.
He was so great about it. Didn’t judge me for not speaking to him, didn’t tell me I was wrong, didn’t try to fix it. He just listened and held me, made me feel seen in a way no one ever had.
Then we had incredible sex, of course.
That night was the first time I ever had that feeling—where you wonder if you might love someone. When your heart whispers to the deepest parts of your soul that he might be the one.
I look over at him, no longer triggered by the music but comforted by it instead. And that’s because of him. Because he encouraged me to talk to my dad after all those years. I stare at the side of his face, overwhelmed with gratitude. For everything he’s ever done for me. For all the ways he’s loved me.
And for the first time in a long while, the good memories outweigh the bad.
He glances at me. “You open to a change of plans?”
“Yeah. What’d you have in mind?”
He nods toward the backseat, and I twist around to look. A few grocery bags sit on the floor behind him.
“I thought we could head back to Matt’s. I’ll make you breakfast. We can hang out. Talk.”
I raise a brow. “You wanna talk, huh?” He totally wants to get naked.Subtle, Jensen. Real subtle.
“I do want to talk,” he says, holding my gaze. Then the corner of his mouth pulls into that cocky smirk. “But if talking turns into something else… I won’t complain.”
A laugh slips out of me. “I’m sure you won’t.”I wouldn’t either… but I’m not telling him that.
I wouldn’t be mad if he drove out to Montrose Harbor again and pulled me into that backseat.
In fact, the more I think about everything he’s done these past few months…
The more I realize just how badly I want to get back to Matt’s.
“Holy crap,did you buy enough berries?” I joke, pulling out the fourth container. He got them all: strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries. I set the raspberries next to the bananas, then pull the eggs out of the sack and fold the reusable bag, placing it on the pantry shelf.
“Do you want me to start the bacon?” I ask, reaching into the next bag and pulling it out.
As I move to grab more of the groceries, my hands are met with resistance. Jensen’s close over mine, gently pulling me toward him. His hands slide up my arms. “I haven’t stopped counting the minutes until I get to do this again.”
He cups my face and kisses me. No tongue. Just warm lips brushing over mine, slow, soft, sensual. He holds back just enough to have me melting into him, aching for more in a way I didn’t know I could. I part my mouth slightly, inviting him in, but he doesn’t take the bait. He takes his time, teasing me with slow flicks of his tongue before burying a fist in my hair. He tugs gently, tipping my chin up to gain full access to my neck.
