Page 110 of Empty Net

“Totally valid, then.” She kisses the corner of my mouth. “I like your lips too, especially all the dirty things they say.”

“Like when I say”—I brush her hair behind her ear, then lean in close—“if we were alone right now, I’d spread you out on this counter and eat your pretty pink pussy until you made a mess all over my face, then I’d lick that little hole of yours I haven’t yet gotten to taste until you were begging for my cock?”

She gulps. “Yes, like that.”

I laugh darkly. “Anything else?”

“Definitely that Southern drawl. It doesn’t come out often, but when it does, it’s good.”

“I’ll try to remember that, sugar.”

She groans, dropping her head against my shoulder when I use the exact accent she’s talking about. “Stop it. It’s not fair. You know that does things to me and we’re not alone.”

“Sorry, not sorry, sugar.”

She pinches me for that one, then pulls away, her eyes finding mine. “You.”

I cock my head to the side. “Me?”

She nods. “Your personality. Your kindness. Your good heart.” She lays her palm over my chest. “Such a good heart. The best one ever, maybe.”

It’s yours, I want to say.It’s yours if you want it, Lilah.

“Fox, I?—”

“Oh my goodness!”

My parents come barreling into the kitchen and we spring apart like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t. What was Lilah about to say? Was she thinking the same thing I was? Could she want this to be real too?

“You have turtle hand towels in your bathroom!”

“That would be my doing, Mrs. Fox,” Lilah says, pouring her a glass of iced tea, the special gallon of sweet I got just for her. She’d kill me if I tried to serve her anything without sugar.

“Mrs. Fox.” My mother laughs with a shake of her head. “There’s no need for formalities, sweetheart. You can call me Bonnie or Mama. Your choice.”

A look I haven’t seen before crosses Lilah’s features: longing. I know instantly what it is she’s yearning for, and it’s the familial love my mother is offering her with open arms.

“Anyway,” my mother says. “Did you know our boy here made it his life’s mission to save the turtles when he was younger? Cutest thing ever.”

“Bold endeavor, too,” my father says as Lilah hands him a beer from the fridge. “He probably brought home at least twenty of those suckers through the years before we finally put a stop to it. Now he’s got a hundred figurines instead.”

“And now even more.” Lilah tosses me a wink. She’s given me no less than six since she first learned of my collection. I’d never tell my parents or siblings, but the ones from her are my favorite.

We settle at the kitchen table, our plates full of good food.

“I hope you like everything,” Lilah says, lifting her mug of lemonade to her lips.

“I’m sure we will. It looks great,” my mother says, my father already digging into the meal, his mouth full as he nods along with her. She points with her fork to the mug in Lilah’s hand. “Did we take the last of your cups?” She looks to me. “Do you only have two proper glasses, Artie?”

“Oh.” Lilah’s shoulders tighten, and I can see the worry that settles into her eyes. “Um, no. I just prefer to drink out of a mug.”

My mother laughs. “Ilovethat. I always eat my ice cream out of a mug. There’s just something about it that makes it taste better. Don’t ask me why. I’m pretty sure it’s science.”

That same longing look from earlier creeps back in as Lilah’s shoulders settle. She and my mother discuss different flavors of ice cream while my father sits by quietly, shoveling his meal into his mouth. I sit back, and I fall even more in love with Lilah than I already have.

After dinner, my father does the dishes, insisting on it since we cooked, and we relax in the living room with my mother, who is still gabbing with Lilah like they’re old friends. Lilah’s hand sits on my leg the entire time, my own curled around the back of her neck. It’s easy. Comfortable.Right.

Eventually, my mother yawns, and my father stands.

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