Charlie
Six months later
“Marisa’s moving back to the city.”
I glance up from where I’m filling two mugs with coffee, finding Dillon staring down at his phone, wide-eyed. “What?”
He glances up, his brow furrowed. “Jack. He said Marisa messaged this morning, telling him she will be here in a month. She’s got another job at the hospital, and she asked if she could stay with him until she found a place.”
My eyes widen comically. “She wants to stay withJack?”
Dillon’s mouth curves. “I can see why you’d think that’s the most shocking part. I wouldn’t want to live with him either. It’d be as bad as living with Barrett.”
I snort. “Worse, actually.”
Jack and I are mostly fine these days. I don’t think I’ll ever actually be friends with him…At least, not in the same way Barrett and Dillon have become friends—even if their love language is sniping at each other.
About a month after Dillon and I decided to give things another chance, Jack apologized to me, but he seemed to sense my reticence. He and Dillon are still friends, and healways gave me space when we hang out, which I appreciate.
“How do you feel about it?” I ask Dillon, coming to his side and setting his drink down. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his thumb stroking the skin of my upper arm, considering my question.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. It doesn’t really feel like we’re friends anymore,” he confesses, looking at me. “What about you? I know we’ve talked about it in our couple sessions, but we didn’t really consider the possibility of her coming back.”
We’ve spent the last six months learning to trust each other, as well as accepting friendships with people we’ve been intimate with in the past. While Alec and I aren’t particularly close, he’s become a permanent fixture in our lives.
But Marisa…
I was semi-friendly with her before she left, enough to extract her from that party when she felt like she had no one else. We also weren’t together then, and it didn’t seem like there was any way forward for us.
Now, my first instinct is to minimize my reaction, to diminish how I’m feeling and bury it down deep. If I’ve learned anything over the past year, it’s that locking all those feelings down, negative or otherwise, doesn’t help anyone.
“I trust you,” I murmur. “And I know you’ve been honest with me about your history. I’m kind of terrified that her being back will bring every doubt and insecurity I have roaring up to the surface. I know those thoughts aren’t just going to go away. And it’s not actually about Marisa. Not really.”
Dillon turns, his palms cupping my face. “You’reperfect the way you are, Charlie. And one day, that voice in your head, the one that belongs to your mother, is gonna be so quiet that you won’t hear it anymore. Not even a whisper.”
He presses his mouth to mine in the gentlest kiss, but it’s not enough for me, and I deepen it, tangling my hands in his hair and tugging him closer. I feel his lips kick up in a smile, but he gives as good as he gets, dropping his hands down to smooth them over my curves.
“Thought we had plans today,” he pulls back enough to murmur, his lips swollen and wet.
“We do,” I agree, leaning forward, stealing another kiss.
“Come on, then.” Dillon grabs my ass, letting out a rough groan. “If we don’t go now, we’ll never leave. And I love our Saturday mornings.”
He wasn’t wrong. After we decided to try again, our first “date” was a walk through our usual market, the salty breeze ruffling our hair. His hand clutched at mine the entire time until our palms were sweaty and my fingers had cramped. Dillon didn’t let me go, not even when I bought a chocolate-covered pretzel, just leaning over so he could keep stealing bites.
It’s midmorning by the time we finish our coffees and make it to the market. It’s busy today, and Dillon immediately entangles our fingers as we weave through the crowd.
“You hungry?” he asks after a while, eyeing the food trucks.
I look in that direction before shaking my head. “Not yet. I actually kind of wanted to find a new mug or two.”
There’s the slightest pause. “For my place? Or yours?”
I don’t look at him as he squeezes my hand so tightly that my fingers ache. “I was thinking…” I say slowly, “maybeourplace?”
Dillon stops walking, yanking on my arm to pull me around to face him. “You serious?”
“Well…” My cheeks heat at the intensity of his eyes. “It’s been six months, and I was thinking that it might be nice to start looking around. We could find something a little bigger than your apartment, and something that’s ours. Right from the start.”
