Page 26 of Until Then

The scream that escapes the grown man is so high-pitched, I wince. The keys finally come free of the lock and go flying over his head before landing in the bush outside.

He grabs at his chest like he’s clutching his pearls. “What the fuck is on your face?”

“Uh.” I tap my cheek where the face mask has hardened. “A face mask?”

“That shit is scary.” He points at me, wearing an accusing glare.

“Scary?” I repeat while he searches for his keys just outside the door.

He finds them quickly and locks up behind him.

I fight a grin at his exasperated expression when he faces me again. “What’s scary?”

“It’s all gray and white and zombie-like.”

“Careful,” I warn, teasing, “or I’ll put one on you.”

His eyes widen comically. “Not a chance.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” I call after him as he heads into the kitchen with his food.

He doesn’t respond, but I do hear him shuffling around in there, opening and closing cabinets and then the fridge.

I focus on the show again, and I’m surprised when he returns a few minutes later and sits in the leather club chair in the corner.

The living room is the definition of cozy. The TV is mounted above a fireplace and is flanked by bookshelves filled with a variety of books and other knickknacks, including pictures of Reid and Layla over the years. There are several of Lili, too. It’s clear Derrick loves his family.

“What’s this?” He points at the TV.

“You’ve never seenGilmore Girls?”

It makes sense, I suppose, since he’s a guy, but I love the show so much I find this news downright blasphemous.

He shakes his head and takes a bite of his burger. Through a mouthful, he says, “Nope. Can’t say I have.”

Dramatically, I drop my head back against the couch andsigh. “Welcome to the best show ever. This is the first ever episode. I’ll start it over.”

He straightens. “No, you?—”

“Too late,” I say with a smile.

He glances at the stairs like he’s tempted to run away. Instead, he settles back, grumbling a little, and before long, he’s sucked into the show like I knew he would be. We watch three full episodes, only pausing for bathroom breaks and so I can take off my face mask.

“We can watch more tomorrow,” I tell him after I’ve turned the TV off and am folding up the blanket I pulled off the back of the couch halfway through the first episode.

“I don’t watch much TV,” he admits. “At least not shows, and certainly not in order. I’m usually too tired after work, so I only turn it on for background noise.”

He follows me up the stairs, and we pause in the hallway in the space between the master bedroom and the guest room.

“The bookshelves,” I blurt out when it looks like he’s about to take off again and disappear into his room. Suddenly I’m not ready to part ways. “Around the fireplace. Did you make those?”

His brows furrow, like he can’t figure out where I’m going with the question. “Yeah, I did.”

“I love them. The dark green paint works well in the space.”

He nods silently, the simple move effectively cutting off the conversation I’d tried to start and leaving us standing together awkwardly.

It’s like the confidence that has always come easy to me is sucked into a vortex when he’s around.

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