Daphne’s not wrong about this thing between us—whatever it is—being a side effect of our close quarters the past few days.
But I like her.
This woman that she’s become—she’s still Daphne, but she’smore.
She gets me. She understands not fitting. She has people in her life—normalpeople, people she loves, people who are her new family—who have taught her to live the way I want to live.
She’s making me feel likeI’mfamily.
Like I have a place to belong, just as I am, while I’m discovering who I’m meant to be.
“Gotta go,” I murmur as I hear the door opening.
I hang up and tuck the phone into my pocket as she strolls into the room with a stack of envelopes. Her hair’s damp, though the light’s all wrong to catch the blue and green streaks right, and she’s in a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt with a unicorn on it suggesting that I have a nice day. No makeup today.
Not even her lipstick.
But she smiles at me as if all is perfect in the world, easing that little blip that’s been sitting in my heart since she told me she had soap in her eye in the shower.
“You wanna bet control of the TV remote tonight on if I can get rid of this whole bag of cash today?” she says.
Bold and confident. Eyes sparkling like she’s excited for the challenge.
She’s so damn pretty.
“That’s it? All you want to bet is control of the TV remote?”
“I’m not betting you dinner when I don’t have cash myself, and sexual favors are completely off the table once we leave this room.”
“Completely?”
“Completely, Oliver.”
“Boring, Daphne.”
“Don’t make me go through two bags of your money.”
I grin at her. “Is it hard? Being the adult for once?”
“It’s annoying as hell. You ready to go? You’re driving. I need to watch my phone to keep an eye out for opportunities. Also, I have to text Bea, which I know I don’t have to tell you, but I amin the spirit of complete honesty. She rebranded her burger bus, and I need this full story. I’ve missed a lot at home.”
Home.
I want a home.
But I don’t say it, and instead, we load up and hit the road, leaving behind ten thousand dollars in a tip for the housecleaning crew and a note asking them to someday pay it forward.
An hour later, we’re on a road following a river somewhere in Arkansas. Daphne’s sitting in the back seat with the cash, doing something with the envelopes and her phone.
“We’re coming up to a town in about three miles,” she tells me. “Take a right at the stoplight.”
I follow her directions, and soon, we’re pulling up to a shopping center anchored around a Purple Donkey grocery store.
“We need small bills,” Daphne informs me. “So we’re each going into the grocery store, then into the dollar store next door, then into the gas station at the other end of the parking lot. Get something like gum, anddo not give the change away. Not yet. We need smaller bills.”
“Is this change for laundry?”
“No. Laundromats all take some form of credit cards now.” She shoves three hundred-dollar bills at me. “Meet me back here when you’re done.”
