Page 119 of Just Trouble

He laughs a little, a warm and comforting sound. “My mom and I looked out for each other.”

I glance over my shoulder at him, slightly horrified. “She didn’t talk to you about this when you were a kid?”

“No, but I knew that sometimes she didn’t feel well and I learned what helped.” He leans down, his lips on the back of my neck. “Motrin, tea and hot water bottles,notorgasms. Nothing twisted, Daph. I wasn’t that much of a rulebreaker.”

I smile into my pillow.

“She told me that once, that sex helped, years later when I was…active. Maybe she thought it would ensure I didn’t bolt in horror. I don’t know. I never investigated until now.” He bends over me again, the prickle of his chest hair against my back. “It’s remained an intriguing possibility, but now, hmmm, I want it in the rotation.”

“I agree.” My smile broadens a bit at even a hint of permanence to our relationship, coming from him.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“You cook?”

“Some.”

“Then surprise me.” I wait a beat. “I’m not much good at cooking. Maybe we can take turns after you move in.”

His eyes light and he freezes for a second, then smiles slowly. “Is that an invitation, Daph?” he murmurs, his voice deep and wonderful.

I nod. “It is. I think there’s space for your guitar in the living room, and I can make room in the closet for your stuff.” He’s staring at me like I’m speaking in another language, like he doesn’t dare believe it, so I take a breath and say the rest. “I’d really like you to.”

I get a kiss that probably isn’t intended to leave me as dizzy as it does. My heart is leaping around my chest like it’s doing an Olympic gymnastics routine by the time he’s done and I know he likes the idea as much as I do.

I watch as Luke saunters out of the bedroom with purpose, feeling like the luckiest person on the planet—and that’s before he starts whistling.

Will it be better if he stays longer, or will that just make it hurt more when he leaves? I don’t care anymore. I’m in for the experience, wherever it takes us.

And I’m going to love every minute.

32

LUKE

I’m heading to the theater the next morning for a meeting with the building inspector when Daph’s dad passes me in the Benz, then pulls in to park in front of his office. I know Daph is down at the other end of Queen Street this morning, scheming with Willow about her new office. I’ve just called Bruno to tell him that I’m checking out and he’s cool with me picking up my stuff at the end of the day.

I wave and say good morning, planning to just carry on, but Daph’s dad has stopped on the sidewalk, waiting for me.

“When you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”

I check my watch. Now is as good as any time, depending how much of a chat it’s going to be.

“Ten minutes,” he says, anticipating my question.

“Now works for me.”

He gestures and we head into his offices, greeting his receptionist on the way to his office. He’s a methodical man, one who can’t be rushed and one who has his routines. There’s a reassuring rhythm in the way he speaks to her, then hangs up his coat. She’s placed the morning paper from Toronto on his desk and opened the blinds. The office itself is all dark wood and oxblood leather, with a whole wall of books that are likely legalreferences. It’s traditional and reassuring. I feel as if everything’s going to be fine, which is a great spell to cast to potential clients. Richard himself is wearing a dark gray suit, a shirt with French cuffs and a perfectly knotted burgundy tie. He’s overdressed for Empire, but he fits in this room.

He offers me a seat and I take it, wondering what to expect.

“Since time is of the essence,” he begins. “I’ll get right to the point. It’s apparent that you’re spending a lot of money, particularly on the Odeon.”

“It needs everything,” I say, with a little bit of exasperation.

“And were you expecting that?”

“The roof was a surprise, but I probably should have anticipated it.”

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