brothers have broken shit in here, and it’s no big deal.” She shoots me a look, and I backpedal. “Ok, I
was a little upset, but that’s it.”
“A little upset? How much? How much was the stuff they broke?” Shit, shit, shit.
I clear my throat and mumble my answer, hoping she won’t catch it. “I don’t remember.”
“Oh god,” she moans, slapping her hands on the top of her head. “That means it’s really
expensive, and you just don’t want to tell me.” She’s in a full panic, and there I go again, smiling.
She’s too fucking cute.
“It’s just stuff. That’s all.”
“But clearly stuff you care about. You picked it all. You paid for it. You’re displaying it in your
home. And the idea of breaking any of it is making me nauseous,” she moans.
Right. This isn’t funny anymore. How the hell do I get through to her? How do I make her
understand? Eyes darting around the room, I settle on a book and grab it off the shelf. I’m more of a
collector than a reader, but I did read this one.
“You see this,” I say, waving it in the air. “Tom Sawyer. I read this in school, and when this copy
came up for auction, I grabbed it. But you’re telling me that this book I paid ninety grand for is
standing between us?” I have no idea where I’m going with this or how far I’m prepared to take it, but
reason has left the building. “So, let’s get rid of it.”
I spin, heading to the kitchen, dropping the book on the counter as I search for matches. Maya’s
still in the corner across the room, watching me with wary eyes. But when I light the match and pick
up the book, she snaps out of her self-imposed prison and runs toward me. I take a second to admire
the picture she makes, hair streaming behind her, chest bouncing magnificently. If you ignore the look
of total panic on her face, it’s really hot.
Determined, I bring the match an inch from the corner of the incredibly rare book. “You’re asking
me to choose between my stuff and you. I don’t think you’re getting it.” she slams to a stop on the
other side of the island, hands flat on the wood top. “There is no choice to make. If you haven’t
figured it out by now, I want you. So it seems to me the only solution is to get rid of the expensive
shit. It should only take me a day or so to burn everything. You don’t mind sitting on folding chairs,
right? Are they cheap enough for you? Or should we just sit on the floor?”
Yep, I’m losing my shit a little, but I’m dead serious.
“You’re a lunatic,” she says, a bit of…awe in her voice. “But you’re not going to burn that book
