Page 97 of Resist

“Nope.” I pop my P. “They can also fly.”

His head turns my direction again. “They can?”

“Yeah, zoos tend to clip their wings to stop them from flying, but in the wild, they fly. They’re also monogamous. Not, like, lifelong or anything. They’ll mate with another flamingo for a whole season, or sometimes even multiple seasons. They’ll make a mud nest together to incubate their baby. Most of the time the female will lay one egg that both mom and dad will take turns incubating. After a month, congratulations, you’re parents, and then you find new lovers for the new season.”

His voice is thoughtful as he stares at the flamingo. “Is that what this is?” He slips his hand into mine. “Our relationship? Is it just for one season? Because if that’s what you think, I’d really like you to reconsider.”

My body turns as pink as the birds in front of us in the enclosure. I chew on the inside of my mouth because I’m notgood at this. The feelings, the vocalizing, the letting people in. But I like this one, a lot, in fact, I think I more than like him but it’s only been one month and four days since we met, and I don’t know if I’m allowed to let myself more than like him yet. Even though he said the L-word to me already.

Are there rules for this type of thing?

“Flamingos in captivity live until they’re fifty. In the wild it’s twenty to thirty. I don’t know when they start fucking, but that’s potentially a lot of lovers.”

“And babies. Think of the college fees.” He’s such a ham sometimes.

“I don’t have the energy for that kind of revolving door love life.”

He squeezes my hand. “Don’t settle because you’re tired, Corabelle.”

“I don’t want babies, Sterling.” They’re something I’ve never desired. I’m fine with children, I like them just fine. I can be a great aunty to my friend’s kids if and when the time comes, but I have never wanted to be a mom.

And sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world okay with that decision. If you dare to say it out loud people think you’re defective, or broken. Fuck that shit. I’d rather children were born into loving families than just because I have a uterus and people think it’s what I should do.

He stands behind me, holding my hips with both hands and resting his chin on my shoulder. “I know that already. And I’m okay with that.”

“It’s not something I’ll change my mind on.” I don’t know why I’m pressing this one issue when there are a million other things about me that he might not like in a long term situation. I don’t want him to settle either.

He wiggles his chin against the bone in my shoulder. “Stop trying to find reasons for me to leave you and just letme love you.”

The blood rushes from my head to my toes, and I grab the edge of the enclosure. “You can’t love me.” The words that come out of my mouth aren’t really my own. They’re words from my ex, Paul, or previous friends who have left me over the years.

Apparently my prickly, black cat demeanor makes me hard to love. People aren’t afraid or superstitious of me like they are black cats, but apparently I’m every bit as hard to stomach, no matter how special Mom told me I am.

“I can, and I do, and I will. You’re not the boss of me.” He nips the skin at the bottom of my neck with sharp teeth.

“Is that so?” I crane my head around to look at him.

There’s fire in his eyes as they dance with a playful mischief I’m starting to enjoy. He drops a playful kiss on the side of my face. “Careful, Corabelle. You’re breaking all kinds of rules right now.”

“Tenets,” I push back. “You’re the one touching me, in public no less. Clearly breaking rule number six.”

“Tenet,” he parrots. “And if we’re going to talk about them, we’ve broken number five a lot in the past week. We’ve mingled way more than just for business. We broke the emotional Fort Knox number nine last week, too. And tenet number four? When was the last time we slept in separate beds?”

My body flashes with a burst of heat because despite the fact that we’ve been in the same bed, we’ve been in a strictly no-sexual-touch space. I thought it would bother me. I’m a sexual being, and despite the fact that I pulled back for a while before Dad died, I enjoy fucking.

But with Sterling, it’s different. I like the more tender, innocent side of physical touch with him. I enjoy the hugs, and spooning, and the chaste kisses he plants on my forehead, or temple, or in my hair. He makes me feel special, treasured, warm.

“And I’m about to break tenet number eight.” He produces a stuffed flamingo from somewhere. Was it tucked into the back pocket of his jeans? “I couldn’t let this little guy stay on the shelf. He needed to come home with us.”

I blink until my blurry vision clears. “You went to the bathroom.”

“I did.” He nods, squeezing me tighter against him as though he can tell I’m welling up. “I also went to the gift shop.”

“He’s very cute.” I hold the stuffy and use the beak to peck at Sterling over my shoulder. “I love him, thank you. Gifting is your love language, isn’t it?”

His chuckle vibrates through my back. “That obvious?”

“I’m going to have to work on it. Gifting isn’t my strong suit.”

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