We don’t speak while loading the dishwasher.
We don’t speak as he puts the carton of Orange Juice into the fridge.
We don’t speak as I wipe the scrambled egg splatter from the stove.
The air is heavy with more than words.
I lean against the counter, hitting him with a lighthearted grin. “If you scrub that pan much longer, you’ll wear a hole through it.”
He furrows his brows, shaking his head. “Nah. It’s built to last.”
It isn’t a good sign that I’m the one pushing to have this conversation.
“I think it’s good now.” I take the pan from him, rinse it under the water, and set it in the drying rack. “You’ll thank me later when you don’t have dishpan hands.”
As he neatly folds the towel over the oven door handle, he peeks at me from the corner of his eye. “This feels familiar.”
“Oh? Have other women spent an orgasm-filled night with you and then confessed their crimes after eggs and bagels?”
He purses his lips, giving his head a tiny shake of disapproval. “I meant us cleaning the kitchen together.”
A breeze of nostalgia flutters through me, bringing a pure smile to my face and soul. “Oh.Yeah. From the night we...”
Reed invades my personal space bubble, cupping my cheeks in that cherishing way he seems to love. “That was one of the best nights of my life.”
The younger version of me pulls out her journal, uncaps a pink sparkly pen with her teeth, and starts practicing her future signature.
Mrs. Lila Hayes. Mrs. Lila Hayes. Mrs. Lila Hayes.
With an obnoxious heart in place of the dot on theI.
“Really?Hmph.” I shrug nonchalantly, playing it cucumber cool. “It was okay for me.”
He bites his lip. “Liar.”
“Lately, yes.”
Ignoring my micro confession, he asks, “Were you really a virgin?”
I bulge my eyes comically, my head canting to the side. “I figured my inexperience was painfully obvious, you absolute potato.”
We’ve had far too much kissy-kissy time in the last twenty hours or so. I must restore the balance with some snark.
“Passion beats experience.” His hands slip down and squeeze my butt. “Made you squirtandtook your virginity.Damn. You were right. I’m going to be insufferable.”
I feign irritation, attempting to snarl at him but likely failing miserably.
His phone chimes from the table, reminding us both that he’ll be cuffing me momentarily.
As if I’m indifferent, I quip, “On the bright side, I’ll be in prison where your gloating won’t bother me.”
His demeanor nose-dives instantly, shoulders hunching forward and face crumpling. “Point made. You’re ready to talk. Ya friggin buzz kill.”
Through a grin, I say, “If we don’t do this now, we may never do it. We’ll end up in bed. Or you’ll get called away again.”
“Speaking of which, I need to check my phone.” He kisses my nose, then releases me. “Meet you on the couch.”
While he attends to his latest distraction, I spin on my heel and march into the living room as if I’m going to war.
