He chuckled lightly and rolled onto his side. I went with him, attached like a barnacle. “The pleasure was all mine.”
“Liar.” He laughed again and I buried my grin in his chest. “I love your laugh.”
He brushed his fingers through my hair, a slow pattern, and my eyes fell shut, snuggling farther into him. “You said you wantto know me,” he murmured. “I want that too. Sometimes it’s just hard to get the words out.”
“I know,” I said softly, brushing my fingertips across his stomach. “Take all the time you need.”
His lips pressed firmly to the top of my head, once, twice. My every atom hummed. He said, “You smell so good. It makes me dizzy.”
“That’s good?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I dragged my fingers up and down the line of his stomach, watching his breath quicken, as I said, “You smell good, too.”
“I smell like you, now,” he replied. I felt him smile against my hair. “How long can you stay?”
“We have time,” I said. He exhaled slowly, holding me closer.
“Yeah. We have time.”
Twenty
YOST, UT
I wasn’t ready to leave Utah, so I cashed in a detour. We spent another day exploring Provo before heading to a rental Dex had found near the Idaho border. We ordered takeout and watched a movie (Phoebe’s pick ofSawhad Dex complaining incessantly while I watched from behind a pillow), and once I was sure Phoebe was asleep, I snuck down the hall to Dex’s room.
If Phoebe was suspicious, she didn’t let on. She seemed thrilled that I had chosen a detour, and she even discovered a lookout with an amazing view she wanted us to visit along the way. Now, though, it seemed like the route was merely a suggestion, not necessarily meant to be followed.
Oregon loomed, too close for comfort. The stakes felt higher. Phoebe still believed in a happily ever after. I was half in love with Dex. And he seemed to be on the same page, but I couldn’t help the fear popping into my brain like a monster in a haunted house: Dex taking one look at Catalina and snapping into the mindset he’d been in when he wrote that letter.You’re everything, Cat. I’ll love you forever. We went on this trip because heneededherto have those words. His dedication to handing over that letter meant something and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just closure.
But then he’d kiss me. He’d whisper sweet words into my neck, my stomach, between my thighs. He let me catch him looking in the car, miles-long traffic spent in a staring contest. He made sure the rental had three bedrooms and he let me cling to him all night. And in the morning, after slow, sleepy sex, he told me he wanted to make breakfast, and it felt like he’d offered me the world rather than some scrambled eggs.
“Did we know he could cook?” Phoebe asked, shooting the kitchen entryway a wary look, as if Dex had been swapped out for a clone overnight.
“Nope,” I said, my eyes locked on the arched path leading into the kitchen. Every once in a while, Dex would drift into frame, whisking something.
“We’ve had every meal with him for the last week and he didn’t think to mention it? What else can he cook? Is it just breakfast or have we been missing out on everything?” She shifted on the couch to face me, her expression turning serious. “Vi. What if he canbake?”
I imagined Dex in an apron and immediately shoved the thought away. Too inappropriate with my sister’s eyes on me.
“There’s so much we don’t know about him,” she said. “He keeps the weirdest things secret. Why couldn’t we know he lived in Chicago? Why didn’t he tell us he could cook? How is he so rich? What sort of monster says ‘neither’ when you ask if they’re a dog or cat person?”
A tiny wave of unease lapped at my mind. I didn’t know the answers, either, and if I asked, I couldn’t guarantee he’d offer them.Sometimes it’s just hard to get the words out. I’d told him to take all the time he needed and I meant it, but that didn’t make it easier to exist on the outside of a locked door.
“He was screwing with you on the dog or cat question,” I said and she made a dubious face. “He’s a private person, Bee. Give him time.”
“Hmm.” She reached for the remote and switched the TV on. “Whatever.”
I watched her flip through the channels as the thick scent of bacon barreled in from the kitchen. The rental was a quaint Cape Cod–style house with a large garden, only a short ride to the lookout Phoebe wanted to visit. I’d thought the house was a bit underwhelming, but now I had to appreciate the compartmentalized floor plan.
“Be right back,” I said, hopping to my feet. Phoebe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. When I entered the kitchen, Dex was tending a sizzling pan on the stove and steam screamed from a waffle maker on the counter. Three plates littered the marble island, dressed with sliced strawberries. “Wow,” I said. “This is impressive.”
Dex glanced over his shoulder. “Is it?”
“You’re like Gordon Ramsay or something.” He turned his attention to the bacon, flipping it with tongs. I made my way over, leaning into his shoulder. “Phoebe’s aghast. She can’t believe you didn’t tell us you can cook.”
“She didn’t ask.”
