Page 64 of No Place Like You

Her brows shoot up. “I don’t thinkthatlong.” She peers at me with wide eyes and a silent—yet somehow loud and clear—knowing grin.

I stare at her, a little perplexed. “Lucy?”

“Yes, Lucy. You loser.” She flicks my forehead, and I flinch.

“Janet, don’t?—”

“Don’t what?” she cuts me off. “Don’t start picturing little Dexter Jr. withtheperfect woman for you?”

“Janet!”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she scoffs, turning away from me. “If you’re going to keep lying to yourself that there’s nothing going on there, then leave so I can finish this fancy DIY haircut of mine.” She picks up the clippers, taking a deep, cleansing breath, and faces the mirror. I reach in front of her, carefully plucking the clippers out of her hand. She smiles, keeping her back to me, angling the section of hair still untouched in my direction. “Thank you. Getting that backside was a bitch.”

She watches me through the mirror where I stand behind her. But instead of running the clippers through the rest of her hair, I bring the clippers to mine.

“Dex! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Trying out the DIY haircut of yours,” I answer, my focus on my reflection in front of me, where Janet’s shocked face sits in my periphery. The dark, loose strands start to fall from my head and join the rest around us, where I can’t really distinguish which hairs are hers and which are mine. “And once I’m done here, we’re going to finish that whack job you’re doing.”

“Dex…” She starts laughing. Like, really laughing, from deep within her belly. Her giggles sound so light and happy and carefree. And I laugh with her. I smile while the prickly hairs start to tickle my nose and the whirring sound from the hair clippers grows louder. When I shave off the last patches ofmy hair, I move on to Janet, scolding her to sit still while her shoulders shake through her laughter.

With the scattered locks of hair covering the bathroom floor, Janet and I talk about everything. From her cancer to the various head gear we’re going to be sporting to future travel plans to go back home once Janet’s chemo sessions are finished so we can enjoy the beach again.

I take the final few blocks from the subway station to my apartment, a small smile on my face while running a hand through my short hair. When Charles finally made it back home to Janet, the stunned look on his face confirmed the shock, seeing our matching hairstyles.

The whole thing felt like some sort of cancer right of passage. And for the first time in a long time, I watched Janet feel in control of her body. Likeshedecided she wanted to shave it all off instead of dealing with leaving strands of her hair all over Manhattan. And I know it sounds weird, considering she no longer has her dark brunette hair she’s had her entire life, but she looks…like herself.

I walk into my apartment and find Lucy on the couch with the hood of a sweatshirt pulled over her head. One that looks a lot like mine. I smirk at the idea of her wearing my clothes, her scent lingering on the fabric and the warmth of her spreading through the fibers. I have a small bouquet of daisies in my hand, something I picked up on the way home because the bright yellow and white flowers reminded me of her.

“Hey,” I call, just as she looks at me over her shoulder.

“He—” Her eyes widen as she takes me in, my new look and the loose trimmings of hair scattered over the front of my T-shirt. “You cut your hair?”

I chuckle, suddenly shy, and pull at the back of my neck. “I went to visit Janet, and she was…uh, she’s been losing a lot of her hair, so…”

“She cut her hair?”

I nod. “Shaved it right off,” I answer. “And I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

She stands from the couch and pads her bare feet in my direction. I haven’t stepped further into the apartment than the entryway, and she lunges herself into my arms, making my back lightly bounce off the closed door behind me. I toss the flowers somewhere, the floor probably, and grip her firmly, nuzzling my nose into her neck.

“You’re amazing. You know that?” she whispers into my ear, making goose bumps trail where her warm breath skirted over.

I smirk. “I don’t know,” I say into her hair. “I think I need to hear it a few more times to believe it.”

She pulls away and hooks her arms around my neck. “You.” A kiss. “Are.” Another kiss. “Amazing.” She kisses me again, but this time doesn’t pull away. Instead, our lips tangle together, and my arms circle around her waist.

“That’s pretty convincing.” My lips start to travel down her neck, and she tilts her head back, her skin vibrating as a low moan hums in her throat. “How was your day?” I say into her soft skin.

“Better now.” Her hands smooth down my chest to my stomach, reaching for the bottom hem of my shirt. God, the things I want to do to this woman.

I lead her backward, our feet clumsily finding their way to the couch, where we both fall onto the cushions. My hand curls behind her, under her hoodie—ormyhoodie—and I dissolve into a puddle of bliss when I don’t feel a restrictive bra strap in the middle of her back. Just her silky skin.

“We’re still taking things slow, right?” I whisper against her lips.

She nods. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” I pull away to look at her, and a desperate whimper, almost like she’s protesting something, slips through her lips. “I know technically we’ve…you know, had sex,” she says breathlessly, her fingers trailing along the metal clasp of my jeans.

“Okay,” I answer when she pauses.

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