I smirk.
She scowls.
“Come in, Bardot.”
Kicking my shoes off, I make my way to the kitchen. “I’ve been demoted to my last name now?”
I can’t help but watch as she moves around the oversized emerald couch, searching for the remote in the cushions. “I never know what to call you. Benjamin when you’re being annoying. Bardot… when you’re being annoying. Ben when you’re being less annoying.”
“Never Benoit, though.” I find the bag of bougie dog treats right as Ernest hobbles into the kitchen. He jumps a few times on his back legs before I bend down to offer him one.
Cole finally locates the remote amidst the piles of pillows, pausing the true crime documentary that was streaming. “Sometimes Benoit,” she replies, and fuck if I don’t love the sound of my name on her lips.
“When I’m being annoying?” I joke, offering her a diet cherry cola and her dinner from Louie’s.
She sits down at the counter, wagging a finger at me. “See! Now you’re catching on. I always knew you were smart.”
“Did you? I seem to remember you thinking I was quite the idiot.”
“You are an idiot. But a smart idiot, which is a dangerous combination.” She lifts her eyebrow as if she’s inviting me to argue. I don’t. “So what do you prefer to be called, then?”
I prop my elbows on the counter and lean toward her, pretending to ponder her question. “What about ‘husband’?”
“For fuck’s sake, Benjamin. I’m not marrying you,” she says around a bite of burger.
“Why not? We had a deal,” I reply.
She scoffs. “A ‘deal’”—she adds air quotes for emphasis—“that we made twelve years ago when I was drunk for the first time in my life. It would not hold up in a court of law on this planet or any other.”
“I’m fine with a courtroom wedding, it doesn’t need to be fancy.”
“What? That’s not what I said!”
I continue, pretending I didn’t hear her. “Though, I did always picture something a little more formal. Not necessarily black tie, but I could be persuaded if that was what you wanted.”
“Benjamin,” she growls. “Stop planning our fake wedding.”
“But it’s so fun to rile you up,” I say, booping her on the nose. Her glare is murderous, so I walk away, taking the opportunity to explore the rest of her apartment.
She’s on the first floor with a nice little green space that I can see through the sliding glass doors. The rest of the room is painted a deep purple and there are several lamps that cast a comforting glow throughout the space. Similar to her bedroom, there’s vintage artwork arranged on the walls in between several floating bookshelves. Cole obviously does not have a green thumb because the two plants on the windowsill are dying, just like the snake plant in her bedroom was.
I ignore the way she is fuming, passing back into the kitchen to find a glass of water for the plants.Tskinglightly, I admonish her plant growing abilities. “You need to give these some attention,” I say, gesturing to the dying fern.
“For some reason, I have never been able to keep a plant alive. It doesn’t bark at me like Ernest does when he needs something.”
“Fair. I can help you with that.” I don’t wait for her response, immediately jumping into a new topic so she can’t protest. “I noticed you have a puzzle going. Can I add pieces or is it like a sacred ritual?”
“You like to puzzle?” she asks instead of answering my question.
Shrugging, I finish watering the plants and then walk around the coffee table until I can see how she has things laid out. “My grandmother always used to have a puzzle she was working on. It was something we could do together when I visited. It’s so satisfying when you find that perfect piece of puzzle and it snaps into place.”
Cole hums, her mouth full of burger. When she’s done with her last bite, she delicately licks her fingers before taking a swigof cola to wash it all down. I watch as her crop top lifts, exposing a creamy expanse of skin.
I want to lick it.
“It is satisfying,” she finally says, causing my eyes to jump back to her face. “You can add pieces, but if you pick one up and it doesn’t fit, put it back where you found it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink, plopping onto the ground so I have a good view of the puzzle. When Cole doesn’t move, I pat the couch right behind me. “Come sit. You can turn your murder show back on if you want.”
