Quite the opposite, in fact.
She’d practically kicked me back out the door the second we got upstairs, insisting I couldn’t keep my “true love” waiting.
“We’ve only been dating a little while,” I insisted, more to keep my own hopes in check than concerns over my little sister’s romantic assumptions.
“Time is a construct,” Bea said, swaying a little on her feet, clearly feeling her final Turkey Tickler. “This entire ‘reality’ is a construct. Fuck their rules and their logic and all the rest of it. All that matters is what you feel right here.” She pressed a palm to the center of my chest, nodding sagely before she added, “Yep.You’re in love. This is the rhythm of a heart that knows it’s found what it’s looking for.”
“Bea, I?—”
“Go,” she cut in, eyes shining. “Fight for her. Fearlessly. Don’t let anything stand in your way.” She pulled her hand from my chest, grinning as she added, “And don’t let me see your ass around these parts until tomorrow morning, pardner. Preferablylatetomorrow morning. Charlotte works too hard. You should convince her to sleep in for once and let you take her to breakfast.”
I teased her about sounding like a cowboy and laughed, but it felt forced, and when I insisted, “I’m just driving her home. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so,” Bea and I both knew that was a lie.
Just like I know I’m going to have a hell of a time telling Charlotte “no,” if she invites me upstairs after our “talk.” I meant what I said—I want her in her right mind and both of us on the same page before we sleep together again—but maybe sober isn’t completely necessary…
I mean,I’mobviously sober. I wouldn’t be driving if I weren’t. I had a soda when we arrived at the bar and never got around to drinking the one cocktail I ordered. And Charlotte is a woman who knows her own mind, even when she’s a little tipsy.
And God…I want her.
I want her so badly it’s making my teeth ache and my throat tight.
I’ve barely said two words since we left my place.
Come to think of it, she hasn’t been too chatty, either.
I glance her way, startled to find her studying my profile with an unnerving intensity. “Hey,” I say, exhaling a soft laugh. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t stop staring.
Reallystaring.
“Okay.” I shift in my seat. “So, you’re not trying to see through my skin?”
“No. That wouldn’t be helpful,” she says flatly. “I have a pretty good idea what’s under your skin. I have less of an idea why you do what you do.”
My brows lift. “In what way?”
“Why the older women?” she asks softly. “I know I’m not the first. From what I’ve heard, it’s kind of a fetish for you.”
“You’re not a fetish,” I say firmly, not wanting her to think that. Not even for a second. “And you’re actually younger than the women I used to date.”
“Not that much younger,” she counters.
“At least five or six years,” I say. “And you look even younger. The first time we were together, I thought you were my age, or damn close to it.”
She makes a soft, amused sound. “Liar. Sweet, but still a liar.”
I shake my head, insisting, “No, seriously. You can ask Parker. The first time I texted him, asking for your number, I mentioned that you weren’t…” I trail off, worried I might be about to step in it.
She cocks her head. “That I wasn’t what?”
“That you weren’t the kind of woman I was looking for,” I say, adding quickly, “That IthoughtI was looking for anyway.”
“An older woman,” she clarifies. When I nod, she adds, “Which leads me back to where we started. Why? Why did you want to be with an older woman and only an older woman?”
I sigh, debating how honest to be with her. But after the way she looked at me in the bar after Bea and Blue finished their song, after seeing everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner in her eyes…
I owe her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
