Page 45 of Lemon Crush

“Because you’re right. There’s an imbalance between us, and I’d like to fix that. I know things you wish I didn’t, but not as much as you imagine. Mostly what Sam put in her monthly newsletters and whatever Morgan lets slip from worry, which is never that much. She plays things pretty close to the vest. It’s why she always beats me at poker.”

That gave me pause. “You read the newsletters?”

I’d thought Mom only sent those out to the band of boss-bitch friends she’d gathered in her travels.

“Your first question. Good. And my answer is, obsessively,” he admitted without shame. “How else was I going to know which state you two were in, or keep up with every installment ofAugust’s Adventure Cornerover the years?”

My doubt must have been obvious because his lips quirked. “I admit I’m mostly an audiobook man nowadays, but I can still read. I’ve read every one ofyourbooks.”

And the shocks kept rolling in.

This one was flattering, and yet it made me feel…exposed. There was a lot of me in my published books, even if they weren’t as sexually explicit as my current work in progress.

There’s also a lot of him.

Had he noticed?

“I thought you’d be more into biographies and true crime novels now instead of fantasy fiction.”

He made a face. “No thanks. Books and movies are my escape from reality. Usually science fiction, but I make an exception for fantasy if the author is talented enough.”

Everything he said was making him more attractive. How was that physically possible?

“What about you?”

I tensed, discomfort twisting in my stomach. “This is silly, isn’t it? We’ve known each other for thirty-two years and we’re floating around asking each other dating profile questions in a hurricane. What books do you read? What shows do you like?”

“Twenty-six of those we didn’t live in the same state. We’re neighbors again, but we’ve both changed a lot through those years. If we want to get to know each other as we are now, the little details matter.”

“I don’t know anything about my other neighbors,” I pointed out. “The green house across the street? I have no clue why that woman gets so many deliveries from Amazon. Is she trafficking in knickknacks? Building a sex-bot? I’ve never asked and she still waves at me like we’re old friends.”

“That isn’t the same thing and you know it,” he said, his good humor starting to dissipate. “I’m trying here, August.”

And I’m not.

Ugh. “My answer is I have been rereading everything on my shelf and on my e-reader. I’ve also been rewatching shows on Netflix and binging reaction videos online.”

I glared at him, daring him to call me out for my odd admission. At least I knew it was odd.

I’d looked it up once, and it didn’t surprise me that it was a sign of depression. All I knew was it was comforting. Odd. But comforting.

After a moment of silence, he said, “I don’t know what reaction videos are and I’m not sure that I’ve ever watched a show more than once, other than theStargateseries with Phoebe, sinceshe liked to watch it when she was sick. I might be tempted to skimStranger Thingsagain for the 80s references.”

He didn’t ask a follow-up, or look at me with condemnation or pity—both of which I’d been bracing for.

“What’s that face about?”

“What face? I didn’t make a face.”

His look said he knew me well enough to realize I’d just told a lie in the honesty pool. At least I hadn’t peed, but I’d probably feel the same amount of guilt if I had.

I sighed. “I was waiting for the question everyone gets around to eventually.”

“What question?”

“How’s your book going? Is your book finished yet? Is there another book in the series coming out soon? Something along those lines.” Just saying the words shot my anxiety into the stratosphere.

“You’ve been writing every day since I’ve been here, Gus. I wasn’t worried about it. But if you don’t want to talk about your work, we can take it off the list.”

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