It was maybe the best date that ever was.
But he was right.
It wasn’t a date.
It was a woman with her man going out to dunch.
And call me all kinds of crazy, that made it even better.
TWELVE
HERE WE ARE
I woke when my hair was pulled away from my neck, and then gentle fingers trailed down my hairline.
I opened my eyes and saw Gabe in very dim light.
“Sorry, baby,” he whispered. “So you can get home and get ready for work, you gotta get up.”
Damn it.
I’d passed out in front of the TV again.
I knew instantly that after days of Gabe looking after me, I’d had more sleep and was way more rested than I normally was, even if I could tell it was crazy early in the morning.
But I didn’t want to get up.
Gabe’s bed was preposterously comfortable, for one. His mattress was a miracle, and his sheets were the softest sheets I’d ever felt.
Further, Gabe was right there, looking his usual amazing, he was mine, we hadn’t done it yet, and I was in his bed, and again, he was right there.
And although that second bit was the most important bit, this bit was a close runner up: I didn’t want our chillax together time to end.
It had been heavenly.
“You want coffee for the road?” he asked.
Shit.
We both had bills to pay, therefore, our chillax time had to end.
I pushed up to a hand, mumbling, “Yeah.”
He caught me by the back of the head, planted a kiss on top of my hair, that came with the added gentle abrasion of his beard against my scalp and feeling my hair get tangled in it, so I got a happy shiver somewhere private.
He let me go and sauntered to the stairs saying, “New toothbrush by the sink for you.”
Such a good guy.
My good guy.
On that happy thought, I pushed out of bed and padded to his bathroom, shaking off the rest of my sleep.
I used the facilities, washed my hands and brushed my teeth, processing the fact that last night, after I woke up while Gabe carried me up the stairs (the stairs!), he’d taken his tee off and handed it to me, so not only was that what I’d worn to bed, it still smelled like him, and it made me happy.
On my way to leave the bathroom, I stopped as it dawned on me there were no beard clippings in or around the other sink (Gabe’s bathroom had two).
For a second, I stood there, staring at his sink.
