“I know. But…do you really want to spend time with me and my parents when you could be?—”
“Sitting at home watching TV?”
“Just tell me if you change your mind. We won’t tell Dad, so he won’t know you were ever meant to come.”
“I won’t,” I state firmly. “It’ll be a good evening.”
“Yeah,” she muses, her eyes gazing out the window as she wrings her hands on her lap. “It will.”
“Freya?” I question.
“Uh huh?”
“Are you…nervous?”
She chews on her bottom lip. “The last time I took a guy home…” She blows out a long breath. “My parents begged me not to go with him. They told me I was making a mistake. And I was.”
“Are you suggesting they’ll say the same about me? Because I’m not sure if you heard all of that, but it was actually your mom who invited me.”
“Yeah, no. I know. I just…I’m being silly.”
“No,” I say firmly as my arm takes on a life of its own and reaches across the center console, my hand squeezing hers. “You’re not. I’m not him, Freya. I’ll never be him.” But I want to be someone.
I’m not sure I’ve ever attended a family meal before that I actually wanted to be at. Fletch’s team meals don’t count because our Vipers family is different. Freya and her parents are a real family, and I have no idea how one of those really works.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just weird. Maybe one day I won’t keep getting hit with memories of times gone by.”
“They’ll lessen,” I say confidently. I should know; I’ve got more than enough memories that should keep me up at night. Thankfully, they do fade, along with the pain that comes with them.
“Looking forward to that,” she whispers, and I finally pull my hand away. Coldness rushes through me the second I do, and when she looks over, her eyes wide, I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same.
When we get back to the apartment, we both shower and change. And, after applying my own aloe vera because I’m too much of a pussy to brazenly walk up to her and ask her to do it for me, Freya makes us the most incredible meal before the two of us settle on the couch. She mumbled something about goinghome, but I quickly put an end to it. The truth is, I want her here. I love being in her company. I love the way she makes me feel when she’s in the room. We don’t need to be talking; she just needs to be there.
As always, conversation flows easily between us, and before I know it, I’m yawning and ready for my bed.
Despite not looking half as tired as I feel, Freya also tidies up and heads to her bedroom.
“I’ll see you in the morning then,” I state from my bedroom door.
She stands opposite me, her notebook clutched to her chest and a glass of water in her other hand. Her face is clear of makeup, her cheeks sun-kissed, and her hair pulled back in a braid. She’s perfect.
“Yep. See you in the morning. Sleep well.”
She turns away and slips into her room, leaving me standing there with her sweet scent filling my nose and desire thumping through my veins.
I crawl into bed a few minutes later, desperately trying to hear sounds of her moving around. It’s pathetic, but for a man who craved living alone for so many years, now all I want to know is if she’s happy on the other side of the hall.
I lie there for the longest time despite the exhaustion that tugs at my muscles. But eventually, I drift off, knowing that I’ll get to spend another day with her tomorrow.
All days spent with Freya are good days.
“Areyou sure you’ve got enough stuff?” I ask the next afternoon as we do our second trip down to the car with Brian’s gifts and half-prepped food.
“Um…” Freya thinks, taking my question seriously. “Oh! I forgot the cake.”
“You forgot the cake? For a birthday party?”
“Yes,” she agrees. “Don’t judge me, okay?”
