After I’ve preened about being the “best orgasm giver,” and been thoroughly teased, we climb under the covers, listening to one of Charlotte’s favorite instrumental albums drifting from the speakers hidden in the recesses of her tray ceiling.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur. “Who’s it by again?”
She doesn’t answer. I glance down to see her features already slack with sleep. She’s dead to the world, but her fingers still curl lightly into my T-shirt, as if to make sure I don’t run off while she’s unconscious.
I have zero intentions of running off.
I press a kiss to her hair, breathing in the scent of soap, shampoo, and the warm, perfect, faintly sweet smell of Charlotte.
My girl.
She really is mine now. I can feel it in my gut, in the way everything tight and fearful in me has unfurled and faded away. No, we still haven’t gotten around to “the talk,” but we will. And when we do, she’ll agree there’s no choice but to lock each other down and make this fake relationship the real deal.
I yawn, nearly as exhausted as she is, but wanting to let Bea know I won’t be home before I pass out.
I reach for my cell on the bedside table, doing my best not to wake Charlotte as I quickly text my sister—Staying over at Char’s. Call if you need anything. Leaving ringer on just in case. Be back first thing in the morning.
I don’t expect Beatrice to still be awake, but before I can set the phone down, a response swoops through—No need to rush on my account. I can make my own breakfast. Stay. Enjoy .
I thumb out—Okay. Maybe. If you’re sure.
I’m sure, she shoots back without missing a beat.And I’m happy for you, Bay. I’m so glad you found someone as wonderful as you are.
Chest tightening, I reply—Thanks. Why are you still up? Everything okay?
Totally okay. Great, actually—She adds a peacefully beaming emoji, then—I’m writing a song. A duet. Tonight was inspiring. It reminded me how much fun it can be to sing with someone who puts the music first.
I’m glad,I reply, fighting a yawn as I add,Can’t wait to hear it. Text you in the morning to let you know what time I’ll be home. Sleep well.
You too,she says, followed by a gif of two cartoon cats getting it on in a position straight out of the Kama Sutra.
Fighting a snort of laughter, I set my phone down and relax into the mattress, grinning up at the ceiling like a fool.
And maybe Iama fool.
Maybe this will end up being another lesson in disappointment, but I don’t think so. This feels too right, too meant to be. Like Fate itself arranged for us to be in Parker’s house at the same time, both of us naked, a little lost, and horny enough that banging between the lettuce rows seemed like a good idea.
As I drift off, I have a passing thought that there should be lettuce in her wedding bouquet.
And maybe a zucchini…
Sixteen
CHARLOTTE
Orange, autumn-tinged morning light creeps in through the curtains, carrying a cool breeze through the open window.
Fall is here. I can smell it.
It’s time to grab pumpkins for the front porch and candy for the neighborhood kids. Time to decide if I’m going to make a serious costume effort or fall back on my trusty witch’s hat paired with my black dress covered in silver charms, the one that’s always reminded me of Stevie Nicks.
The thought sends memories from last night rushing through my head, making me acutely aware of the warm, muscled body wrapped around mine.
Nix…
My cheeks heat, and a satisfied hum pulses in my veins.
We were naughty last night.
