Page 117 of Best Served Cold

“I won’t, but there’s an extra toothbrush under the sink, if you’d like to use it.”

She glances down at the shirt, then folds her arms over her chest.

“Uh-oh,” I say. “You’re about to insist that you really need to leave. Your arms tell the whole story.” I shrug, soaking in those pillow lines and the sight of her in my band’s T-shirt. That does things to me.

“No,” she says, dropping them abruptly. Then she laughs. “Okay, maybe. I just…I have a shift later, and I haven’t had a chance to shower. I feel grubby.”

“You look absolutely delicious in my T-shirt. It’s giving me all kinds of ideas.”

“Really?” she says, sounding pleased and plenty surprised, which she really shouldn’t be. I figured it was common knowledge that if you want to drive a guy crazy, you wear his band’s shirt.

“Really.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “Did this just become my shirt?”

“Sure. You can have my whole wardrobe.”

She smiles. “That’s unnecessary. But I’d be happy to eat some burned eggs.”

“How dare you. These eggs are undercooked.”

“Were undercooked.” Her smile turns wicked. “You’ve been distracted.”

Of course, that’s when the charred scent reaches my nose. “Burned eggs coming right up.”

Laughing, she leans in and kisses my cheek.

I take the eggs off the burner, inspect them, and throw them in the trash. “I have cereal or cold toast.”

“I’ll have coffee,” she says.

I watch as she pours it, looking at home in my kitchen, very much like she belongs there.

“I have to go meet Emil at the park, but why don’t we stop at Dottie’s place for breakfast?” I say, speaking like a man who wasn’t there yesterday morning. I don’t want Sophie to leave me yet. I’m not ready to release the spell that was cast last night.

She looks at me with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “First the crystal in your bedsheets, and now you want to go to Dottie’s place for breakfast?”

“I know,” I say, shaking my head theatrically. “It’s like I’ve been drinking Pollyanna juice, or eating Pollyanna p?—”

Laughing, she presses her hand to my mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

I kiss her palm. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She laughs harder, pulling her hand back. “Yes, you would.”

“You know me well.”

She glances thoughtfully into her coffee cup, as if it’s full of tea leaves that might spell out the future for her. “I’m still worried about standing between you and your family. I don’t want you to regret?—”

I brush my thumb over her cheek. “What I’d regret is if I didn’t give this a real shot because of them. If I let them stand in the way of something that could be really great. Besides, you’re the person who’s going to help me form a new family.” Her eyes widen, and I realize how that sounded. “Don’t worry, Soph. I was talking about Emil. But if you’re really desperate for me to knock you up, I’ll give it a try.”

She laughs, but I still see the worry in her. I feel it.

“Listen, I’m better off without them. Every time I’m around my dad or Jonah, I get dragged down. Depressed. Isn’t that a good reason to stay away?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “But it shouldn’t be final. It should be…don’t you want to leave the door cracked open?”

I give her a sad smile, because I’m feeling her losses, which she spelled out for me last night. The parents who pawned her off on a reform school. The grandparents who never said their last goodbye. “That’s the way the monsters creep in, or slip in an RSVP card with fish circled.”

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