I nodded, wide-eyed, as we started toward the exit, my heart and body open in a way I’d never experienced. I was dancing with him. I was wearing red lipstick. And I had no second thoughts about shutting down Bertram Harrison III. I was living the life I’d put on hold for so many years, the life I’d let fear keep me away from.
I challenged myself to push work and other concerns out of my head, even if just for the night, and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Thirty
By the time we pulled into his garage and stepped out of the car, a heady anticipation had coiled low in my belly.
He linked his fingers with mine. “Have I told you how glad I am you’re here?”
“A few times.”
“Only a few? I’ve been remiss. I’m so glad you’re here.”
As we walked, I took in the dove gray walls and framed photos lining the hallway. I paused for a moment to admire one of Jake laughing, splayed out on a green lawn, covered with small children with matching gleeful expressions. “Your nieces and nephews?”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his smooth jaw next to my face. “All eleven. Love those little monsters.” I smiled at the photo again, the energy of his family jumping off the wall in such stark contrast to how I’d grown up.
“Is this your grandpa? The one you’re named after?” I pointed at a photo of a five-or six-year-old Jake grinning with two missing front teeth and standing next to an older white-haired version of adult Jake. Both held fishing rods.
“Yep.”
“You look like him.” I trailed my hand over another photo, this one of a young Jake, maybe fourteen, surrounded by four girls. The five of them had arms slung around one another’s shoulders, wearing matching green T-shirts. I hardly recognized him. In the photo, Jake was the shortest of his siblings and had chubby cheeks. His teeth were covered in braces, but his eyes were the same familiar blue.
Jake swayed against me and pecked a small kiss at my temple. “Family reunion. We’d go camping every year with my mom’s extended family. That was my awkward phase.”
“I think you were cute,” I commented, letting my body rest backward against his.
He snorted. “You think I would have had a shot with you?”
“Depends,” I said, glancing back over my shoulder. “Were your jokes any better back then?”
His body shook with the rumble of his laugh. “Nope.”
“I think twelve-year-old me would have still asked you to play kickball.” I smiled and stroked my hand over his. “You know, your house is different from what I expected.”
“Were you expecting a messy bachelor pad?” He slipped his hands around my stomach, his fingers splayed across my abdomen, the warmth and pressure of his touch through my dress keeping my body at a steady simmer. “Empty pizza boxes? Beer and car posters on the walls?”
I chuckled. “No. It’s just very . . . homey.”
“I’d love to take credit, but my sister did the decorating down here. I’m not sure I would have ever thought to hang family pictures.”
“Do you miss them? Your family?”
“Yeah. I got this place about six months ago, and Molly and her husband, Chris, came out to help me move. I haven’t seen anyone since then, though.”
He never lived here with Gretchen. Thank God. The idea of being in the middle of their relationship ghosts left me uneasy.
“I told Molly about you.” He spoke into my ear as we paused near a photo of Jake and a tall guy at graduation. I guessed that was Tyson.
“You told your sister about me?”
“Of course. And that probably means my entire family knows. We don’t do secrets well.”
My heart swelled, and an unfamiliar sense of security settled around me. I meant enough to him to tell his family, and I wondered what he’d told them.
“What’s she like? That’s your twin, right?”
He nodded. “She’s tough and doesn’t take shit from anyone, especially me, never has. Super competitive, fiercely protective, and funny. She’s an orthopedic surgeon. I think you’ll like her.”
She sounded a little like Felicia. I bet I would, and I didn’t miss him saying I will versus I would like her.
“Um, can we not talk about my family anymore, though?”
I stretched my neck to the side as he swept my hair away. “What do you want to talk about now?”
“I had help downstairs,” he said, brushing his lips over the skin below my ear. “But the bedroom is all me.”