“Snapper,” I whined dramatically, “you know I don’t like itwhen you throw your clothes on the floor.”
“Now you’rebein’ cute and I stillwannafuck you.”
“I have syphilis,” I lied.
He started laughing.
“And I used to be a man,” I went on.
He started laughing harder.
“A gay man, so we’re good,” I told him.
He laughed even harder.
I slid my hands from his shoulders up to cup his jaw andsaid quietly, “I hate to end this goodness because you laughing is a beautifulthing but I need you to take a shower, have breakfast, and leave me by myself,because except in my car, I haven’t been alone since it happened and I’vegottalearn to do that again, hopefully without freaking.”
The laughter vanished and he dipped his face close to me.
“I’ll show you how to use the alarm before I go,” he said.
I nodded.
“And whatever I do today, I’ll do it close so if you get toofreaked, you call me and I can be here fast.”
“Don’t change your—”
“Rosie, that’s just the way it’sgonnabe today and every day until you’refeelin’ goodabout things.”
Perfect for me.
I nodded again.
“And I’ll be back tonight around six.I’ll bring dinner.What do you want?”he asked.
“What are my choices?”
“Any place that does takeaway in the Denver Metro Area.”
“That’s an alarming amount of choice, Snapper Kavanaugh.”
“It’s what you got, Rosalie Holloway.”
“Narrow it down for me, Mulder,” I ordered and the instant Idid, the look in his eyes…
Man.
I’d leap through rings of fire to give him that look again.
He liked we had that.Him my Mulder, me his Scully.He likedgetting it back.He liked that familiarity.That history.That sweetness weshared, him and me.
Perfect for me.
“Indian or Mexican,” he said softly.
“Indian.”
“You got a favorite?”he asked.
