“What are we going to do with all this?”
“I have a few ideas.”
The memory of the kiss comes roaring back to me, and I flush.
We both start pulling out the sex toys. “Some of these are clearly meant for you,” he says, putting the Rabbit on the counter. “And some of these are meant for me.” He pulls out a cock ring, which starts a pile on the opposite side of the counter.
When we’re about halfway through, Morgan asks me, “Which one is your favorite?”
Some of these I haven’t used, but there is one that I’ve always wanted—one that has a small cup that sucks while it vibrates. I pick it up.
Morgan plucks it out of my hand. “Good, that’s definitely a keeper.”
The fucker puts it in his pile, and now I have to try to push images of us using it together out of my mind. He smirks at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, but then he straightens and plucks his phone out of his back pocket. He taps the screen, his face shifting to friendliness. “Hello.”
I hear Kit’s voice. “What’s this about a box of sex toys?”
Morgan laughs and sets the phone against the wall, so it’s propped up. I lean into the camera and wave just in time to see another caller join—Bailey and Silas appear together.
For a few minutes, there’s a flurry of people joining the call, some of whom I don’t know—and a lot of exclamations of “what the fuck?” as Morgan retells the story several times. “My brother must have stolen it off my porch, thinking it was a fancy coffee machine. I guess he wasn’t interested in the resale value of enough toys to stock a generous nightstand,” Morgan jokes. “Did one of you do this? As a prank?”
“No, but I wish I’d thought of it,” Kit says.
“Maybe you should call the police,” Hunter adds. It’s not a bad idea—if Graham stole in a moment of opportunity, what will he do when he has time to plan?
Silas clears his throat. “We got one too. Kind of.”
“WHAT?” several people shout at once. Then it’s kinda mayhem while people talk over each other until everyone shuts up enough to let Silas explain.
“It wasn’t a big box like this,” he says. “It was just one . . . uh . . . toy.”
Hunter groans. “I did not need to know this.”
“There was a note,” Bailey adds.
I’m picking through the rest of what’s in the box when I notice a white corner underneath a copy of The Joy of Sex. I fish it out and hold it up. It’s an envelope with both our names on it.
Morgan gestures for me to open it.
“‘Dear Mr. Law and soon to be Mrs. Law—or Mrs. Fox, or whichever last name you choose.’” I raise an eyebrow. “‘Some generous Herevians would like to facilitate marital bliss in the bedroom. We hope you enjoy at least a few of these items and remember that open communication is the best aphrodisiac.’” I flip the card over—nothing on the back. “It’s signed ex-oh.”
Several voices talk over each other and Morgan raises a hand. “There’s too many of us to talk at once. Best guesses, start with Kit, go!”
“Whitney Macy!” he shouts like he’s on a game show.
“That’s my vote too. It could be some sneaky marketing campaign,” someone adds.
I have no idea who Whitney Macy is or why she would be marketing sex toys until Morgan whispers to me, “Her sex advice podcast is one of the worst-kept secrets in Here.”
They take turns throwing out other names. I don’t know any of them, and it starts to feel weird that I’m having a conversation about sex toys at all with complete strangers, instigated by even more complete strangers mailing us “marital aids.” I have enough meddling with my grandmother, the rest of these nosy bodies can fuck off.
I try to swipe the suction toy from Morgan’s pile and he smacks my hand away with a grin. I give up and sweep my pile into my arms and take them back to my bedroom.
I pause between the two doors. My room on the right, Morgan’s on the left.
We just divided up these toys. We also just made out.
If we hadn’t been interrupted, where would we be now?
