“Oh, so youenjoyedmy sea shanty summer? With Wellerman blasting out your sunroof?”
Robbie laughs again, burying his face in my stomach, and I have to laugh too. “I enjoyed thatyouenjoyed it,” he says diplomatically.
“Uh-huh. And the time I thought it’d be brilliant to dress up as ketchup and mustard bottles for Halloween?”
“In retrospect, very phallic of us,” he notes. He rolls onto his back so he’s looking up at me, his face devastatingly familiar but also somehow new. Precious in a way that had somehow been locked away from me before today. I try to shove it back.Less preciousness, please.
“But you know, Ames, when I agree to do this stuff… that’s my choice. And Ichoose.”
I blink and stretch my neck side to side. “Sure you do. I rarely hold you at gunpoint, for legal reasons.”
“No. Look. You… you say sometimes that I don’t stick up for myself enough.” Serious green eyes meet mine. “That I’m allowed to want things and fight for them.”
I nod once.
“And you’re right that there are times—have beentimes—when I’ve gone along with things because it was easierjust to… let them happen. I’m not denying that, and now that I recognize it, I’m trying to change. But you should know that most of the time, Amesie—almost all the time—it’s not like that at all. I’m not a hostage. I do things because Iwantto.”
“No, I know?—”
“Do you?” His big fingers are gentle as he holds my chin in place, not letting me look away. “Ichooseto rock out to sea shanties with you because that’s fucking fun. Ichooseto be the ketchup to your mustard because it makes me happy being your partner in crime, especially at the holidays. Just because something wasn’t my idea first doesn’t mean I’m not fully invested. It doesn’t mean I don’t have agency. And it doesn’t mean you’re responsible for my choices or need to protect me from them. I don’t want you to ever think that. Okay?”
I swallow hard and nod. I can’t help stroking a thumb over the soft skin at the corner of his eye as I continue. “What I hear you saying is that Bert and Ernie this fall is a go.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He grins widely. “Wait, Bert’s the taller one, right?”
I laugh out loud. “Asshole.”
“To me, you’re like these meteors,” Robbie says, serious again as he traces my tattoo. My traitorous skin prickles with goose bumps. “You light up the sky. You make me think big thoughts and get excited by new shit when otherwise I might just get stuck in the same damn spot, like a big, stupid rock.”
“I get it, Robert.” I smack him with a throw pillow. “Enough with the sentimental. Jesus.”
Laughing, Robbie lies back down with his hands stacked behind his head, looking pleased with himself.
He’s so fucking pretty, all of him laid out right there in front of me.
“We should go camping during the meteor shower again this summer.” Robbie’s gaze comes back to mine. “That would be fun, huh? Just the two of us. Make it a tradition.”
I suck in a breath that makes my chest pull. “Yeah. Totally. Kind of.”
“Well, I’ll plan it, if that’s the problem,” he offers with a frown. “If you can take time off at Watchfire, I’ll make sure we get the time blocked off at the station.” He digs in his pocket for his phone. “What are the dates again?”
“August,” I say dryly. “Usually the fourteenth.”
“Oh.” His eyes meet mine, and I know he’s remembering my teeny, tiny display of bad temper when he first mentioned his wedding date weeks ago. My face goes hot, thinking of what this might reveal.
We haven’t discussed my drug-inducedlurveconfession at all, beyond him admitting I made one. I don’t remember it, and I have neither confirmed nor denied—not in so many words anyway—the truth of it.
And maybe that’s silly, given… well, everything else. Robbie’s my best friend. He knows I love him. He pulled me out of a burning building. I sucked his dick.
But I’m enjoying the ride here, damn it. Or trying to. I’m not pinning my future hopes and dreams on that ride lasting and carrying us off into the sunset. I let myself believe in a dreamlike future between us before, and it was hell getting over it. I’m not real eager to sign up for that again.
Not when Robbie’s been aware of his bisexuality for four and a half minutes and broken up with his fiancée for three.
So we’re moving on.
“Good news, I’d already saved that date,” I tease. “And apparently, you’re free too, now, so… shouldn’t be a problem.”
Robbie’s eyes are soft, like he sees way too many things happening in my head. “Ames?—”
