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I leave it there.

39

CALLIE

I've suspected Roman liked me for a while.

There have been signs.

The coffee shop. The gym. The grocery store. The fact that he hasn't actually killed me despite my giving him several legitimate reasons.

But this morning, I obtained proof. Actual, indisputable proof.

Roman had the key. He could've unlocked the handcuffs at any time.

Instead, he put it on the nightstand and went back to bed. With me. And Alibi.

Which, according to my calculations, puts us about three shared utility bills away from marriage.

I smile at my laptop.

“Callie.”

I look up. Violet is staring at me from across the office.

“What’s going on with you?” Her eyes narrow.

“What do you mean?”

She stares at me. “You’ve been smiling at your computer for the last five minutes.”

“Maybe I'm happy.”

“You're working on a social media campaign for one of our most difficult authors.”

“Maybe I’m thinking of ways to annoy her.”

“While you’re good at doing that, I’m not buying it.” Violet stares at me over the rim of her coffee mug. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Callie.”

I return my attention to my screen. I can feel her staring, but I ignore her. Mostly because telling my sister that I broke into Roman's house, got handcuffed to his refrigerator, slept with him, then handcuffed myself to him while he slept feels like the kind of conversation that requires alcohol. At least for her. And possibly legal counsel.

“Did you find Hot Lips again?”

My head snaps up. Violet grins.

I shouldn't have told her his nickname. That was a mistake.

“His name is Roman.”

“I know.”

“Then call him that.”

“No.”