“No. No way.” He guffaws. “And it’s not even astay away from my little sisterthing. It’s more like azero-chemistrything.”
“Gotcha. Is she seeing anyone?”
“If she is, she hasn’t told me,” he replies. “She’s so damn busy at the hospital that I doubt she has much time for dating.”
When we approach the door to my building, he waits for me to fish my keys out of my purse before handing my duffel over.
“Thank you. And thank you for letting me stay at your apartment while you were away. And thank you for…” I trail off, shoving down all the affectionate words fluttering to break free from where I’ve got them caged behind my ribs.
“The best sex of your life?” he supplies, quirking a brow.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I scan my surroundings, hoping a random passerby hasn’t overheard our conversation. Grasping the fabric of my sundress at my hip, he tugs until my sneakered toes bump into his. He wraps one arm around mywaist, and I bury my cheesy smile deep in his chest. When I pull back, he drops a kiss to my forehead, and we both linger, unspoken sentiments passing between us. Only when someone exits the building do we break apart.
I step to the side for them to pass, and Cam catches the door with his foot.
“When can I see you again?”
“I’ll text you.” With a smile over my shoulder, I step into the building.
“Hey.” He rests a foot on the doorstep. “I’m not trying to push you,” he says, rubbing a hand against his cheek. “If you feel like things are moving too fast, I can?—”
“I don’t,” I interrupt. “At least I don’t think so.”
That’s what I need to talk to Millie about. We’ve only just begun dating, and I’m already staying at his place for days on end. Even if we have technically known each other for more than a year.
“I just—” I exhale and search for a way to explain my confusion. But words escape me. “I’ll text you. I promise.”
His eyes are filled with hope, despite his terse smile. “Have a good weekend, Joey.”
True to her word, Millie is waiting with fresh coffee and a bottle of chilled champagne. She’s wrapped in an emerald green robe, and her hair is loose.
“Hey, boo,” she sings, sweeping me up in her arms.
“I missed you too,” I laugh, kicking my sneakers off.
When the oven beeps, she scurries into the kitchen and pulls out a tray of cranberry-orange scones.
“Did you make these?” I gasp, inhaling the zesty scent of my favorite pastry.
“Fuck no,” she scoffs. “Peg and Fran dropped them off last night. I just tossed them into the oven so they’d be warm when you arrived.”
“Oh, good. For a second, I thought you turned into Martha Stewart while I was away.”
“Me? Domesticated? That’ll be the day.” She transfers the scones onto paper plates and drizzles vanilla frosting from a plastic package on top. “Sit.”
I follow instructions, and she joins me at the table. Though I could use a cup of coffee, we skip straight to the mimosas and dive in.
I tell her everything. “We clearly have chemistry,” I share, picking at my scone.
“Duh.” She rolls her eyes. “You two are wrapped in this aura.” She swipes a hand in a wax on, wax off kind of motion. “I can feel it a mile away.”
“And the sex is…” I drop my forehead to the table and mumble, “Fucking incredible.”
“What’s that?” she asks, kicking me under the table.
Lifting my head, I repeat, “Fucking incredible.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She raises her glass in the air.
