Page 131 of All We Need

“Do you own a bike?”

The smell of his body wash momentarily stuns me as he breezes past. “It’saround here somewhere.”

“So you’re not going to explain?”

He’s suspiciously evasive, his silence a clearno.

“Well,Iguess it’s a good thingItexted your brothers while you were in the shower.”Thatgets his attention.Unlockingmy phone,Ispin it around to show him the photoGrahamkindly shared.

His jaw drops, eyes growing comically wide before he dives for me.I’mquick, dashing out of his way to put the bed between us.FeelinglikeIfinally have the upper hand,Iwave the screen in his direction. “Aww, look.Youcan seeLittleBooth.Wasit cold that day?”

“Alessandra,Iswear to god,Iwill take you over my knee.Deletethat photo.”

My smile is menacing asIadmire my new wallpaper.

Dressed in a pair of bright blue spandex shorts, three sizes too small,Boothstands triumphantly outsideOurPlace, his leg propped up on a fire hydrant.AccordingtoPatrickandGraham,Boothwould dress in cycling shorts during the warmer months and strut around town looking to pick up women.Ifit wasn’t so ludicrous,I’dbe impressed.

“I heard these made quite the impression with the ladies,”Itaunt.

That costs me, and beforeIknow it,I’mbeing flipped into the air and carried into the bathroom.Thesound of water jetting against the tiled walls hits my ears. “No,Booth!Myhair.It’snot hair-wash day.It’llget frizzy.”

“Too bad,Silv.Youshould have thought about that before poking the bear.”Hechuckles as cold water pelts down on us.

I’m screaming so loud,I’msurprised the neighbors don’t call 911.

At some point,Boothloses the towel, butI’mstill fully clothed.Eventuallythe water warms.

Whispering softly against my lips, he says, “Idon’t need those shorts anymore.”

Wrapping my arms around his middle,Istretch up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Andwhy’s that?”

His face lights up. “I’vegot the girl.”

CHAPTER FORTY

booth

I’ve been floatingon cloud nine for the last three weeks.

Not a lot has changed about my routine;Iwork, see my family, relax at home.Ifanything,I’veupgraded.

Silver eyes scowl at me over the pass.Awarm hand rests on my thigh at the dinner table.WhileIbuildLEGO, she paints beside me.

My mundane life is now splashed with colors.

The main color:Aly.

She’s fiery red.Frostyblue.Ravenblack.Candescentsilver.

She drifted effortlessly into my day-to-day, as if we’ve been doing this dance for years.Therestaurant keeps us busy during the day, but in the evenings, she’s all mine.Wenever sleep alone.We’vegone to dinner inJacob’sBluff.I’vedriven her out to seePuffinPointLighthouse, and we’ve even visitedPeteyas he returns from a haul.She’sno longer the notorious owner.She’sjustAly.

My silver goddess.

Not only does she fit in with my family and friends with ease, but her relationship withMartinhas taken a surprising turn.Inthe past three weeks, they’ve met up for coffee fivetimes.Nervousat first, there was no denying the lightness to her after their first meeting.

Last week, she came to my house, with a guarded smile and a handful of old pictures ofHarvey.Igave her the space to process as she laid them out on the coffee table and we looked over them together.Theresemblance betweenAlyand her birth father is uncanny.Ravencurls, silver eyes, fair skin, sharp features.

She was silent as her fingers traced the outline of a thirteen-year-oldHarvey.Iwaited for her shutters to come down or a dismissive comment.Itnever came.

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