Slowly and slightly, I raised an eyebrow at her, then the other. "Who was backing who up?"
She smiled. She baited me and I'd walked right into it.
"We were backing each other up," she said quickly, as if somehow she might have offended me.
I wasn't that easy to offend.
"Yes, we were." I reached for her hand, curling my fingers around hers.
Her skin was smooth and smelled good. Her scent today like frangipani and lilac. Soft and tropical. Appropriate for her. Soft and warm when she wanted to be. Hot and steamy when she needed.
Nothing about this woman was simple, straightforward or uncomplicated. She was fascinating and complex, wrapped in a skin of beauty and perfection. Yes, I know that sounds flowery, but Iama playwright and screenwriter after all. Flowery prose is my bread and butter.
Harlow was the sweet strawberry jelly on top, maybe with a hint of peanut butter. The smooth kind, not the crunchy. I hated the texture of crunchy peanut butter. It was almost as bad as overripe banana and soufflé. Yuck.
"I love you," I whispered so quietly I barely heard my own words. "I've loved you since the day we met." Before she could be facetious and correct me, I said, "The night we met," and smirked.
She smiled, letting me know I was right about what she was going to say.
"I love you too," she whispered back. "That was a hell of a night, wasn't it?"
"Oscar Hetherington," I said thinking back. "The third man on your list."
"Yes, he was." Her eyes were glazed, thinking back too.
"After the first two, I thought I knew what I was doing. He proved me wrong. He knew we were coming."
"He knewyouwere coming," I corrected, not from conceit, but because it was a fact. I liked facts. Precision.
"Right." She nodded slowly. "He knew I was coming. He was ready."
"And then I showed up and made things more difficult," I said.
"You showed up and made thingseasier." Now she was the one correcting me. "If you hadn't come in when you did, he would have shot me and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"That depends what happens after we die," I said, "If he'd shot you, I would have been next. We might be in the afterlife, talking about how bad our timing was."
She laughed at that. "I suppose that's possible."
"Do you ever think about it?” I asked. "What comes next?"
She took another long, slow breath. "I think about it, but I don't have any conclusions. As far as I know, there's only one way to find out what comes next, and I'm not ready for that yet. When I am, I'll report back and let you know."
"You will not die before I do." I managed to put almost as much growl in my voice as one of her other boyfriends. "If you die, then I better be dead already."
She turned her hand around and laced our fingers together.
"I was going to say the same to you. I couldn't imagine my life without all of you in it."
"Including Jules," I said, teasing lightly.
"Including him," she agreed.
Lucky for all concerned, she didn't add, 'especially him.' I didn't mind the guy, but I didn't want to be an afterthought.
"You liked him being rough with you," I said.
Her lips turned up in a soft smile.
