Her soft swirls resume as if she wants to give me more of this electric feeling.
“Is it why you wear comfy clothes whenever you’re home?” she cleverly wonders.
“Sportswear is less stimulating, yes. It’s soft and loose, so I don’t notice it as much. I’m also more sensitive to light, so I have blue light blocking glasses. My eyesight isn’t bad—I can work without them—but they help me last longer in front of a screen.”
She remains silent for a moment and then says, “I get why you can’t handle spice at all now. You have a very sensitive sense of taste, don’t you?”
“I do, yes.”
“Then no more chili pepper for you, baby. I’ll make peace with you being a hopeless gringo.”
I chuckle and pinch her ribs for the jab, making her jolt closer to me. “Do you have a stim?” she wonders next.
“Mh-hm. I crack my knuckles. It gives me time to think, something to focus on, and the sensory feedback helps ground me. Whenever one doesn’t pop, it frustrates me, but it’s better than nothing. I used to do it a lot more, but it annoyed my mother, so I learned to control the urge.”
“I noticed it, but I never realized it was a stim…” There’s a brief pause before she asks, “Are comics a special interest?”
“My very first one, yes. It actually helped with the second diagnosis. Then computers and programming came along and eventually took over. And then—” I stop abruptly, realizing what I was about to say.
“And then what?” she asks.
“I don’t… want to worry you.”
“Tell me, Lex.”
“You came very close to becoming a special interest. I had to constantly keep myself in check so I wouldn’t… stalk you online.”
She rises onto her elbow as if she could see me better in the darkness. “Have you ever done it?”
“No. I checked your social media profiles once but never went further than that.”
“So, you never hacked into my webcam to watch me stroll around naked in my room or something?”
I snort, amused by the flirtiness in her voice. “Would you have liked that?”
“Are you kidding? The great Nammota watching me, maybe even stroking himself while doing it… I’d have bent over right in front of the camera just for you, baby,” she teases.
“Then I definitely would have stroked myself.”
“We’ll play it out one day,” she determinedly says, returning her temple to my chest.
Silence falls around us again, and I think she’s done with her questions. But her small voice breaks through the stillness again when she asks, “Do you think you sisters will hate me for what I did to your father?”
My sweet girl…“No. And if they call to ask for details, I’ll make sure they know he deserved it.”
“He tried to pay me to stay away from you,” she confesses after a moment.
“What?!”
“Yeah, you’re worth five million. Or his peace of mind is. Or am I? I’m not sure how that works.”
I groan, tightening my arm around her shoulders. “I should have punched him in the face when I had the chance.”
“That old fart had enough for one evening. Imagine if he dies before your grandfather does,” she adds, very amused. “He’d never get the company he so desperately wants. Maybe we should make that happen, actually.”
“I like the way you think, Walker.”
“There had to be a reason I fell for an evil mastermind, you know?”
