Page 126 of Book Boyfriends
“How about a Meghan’s Munchies run tomorrow morning while the guys are at pickleball?” Hope taps her bare foot against my calf.
“Excellent suggestion,” I muse, a sleepy smile slanting my lips.
“It’s too bad Davis won’t be home to keep you company tonight. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay behind?”
“And let that white dress go to waste. Never.” I snuggle into her shoulder.
Tonight is Lena and Will’s wedding. I’m insistent that my family still goes. As much as I know I don’t want to be there, I want them there for her. Five years don’t wash away the firsttwenty-seven we spent as close as sisters. Part of me will always love Lena and want the best for her. I told her as much in the flowers and the card that I sent this week. That while I can’t be there, I want her to know that I truly wish her the best. A path forward with Lena isn’t something I’m planning on, but I also don’t know. If this thing with my book boyfriends has taught me anything, it’s that life has lots of plot twists. Even if I’m not open now, who knows what will happen in my story.
After the guys finish painting, Jackson and Lars head out to get ready for the wedding. I help Hope, who wows in her outfit. With hugs and another round of questioning my certainty, they head out. James remains behind, putting together baby furniture. His figuring out his path of redemption appears to be a lot of manual labor.
Since Sunday, he’s done every chore around Jackson’s, mine, and Hope and Rem’s places. He’s even accompanied Hope to work to make himself useful until she hires a replacement for Owen. He’s shit at cooking, but is great at heavy lifting and, oddly enough, dealing with the customers with his rakish charm.
Leaving the puttering duke at the house, Wentworth and I trot to my apartment. My plan is a lot of snacks while bingeingStar Trek: The Next Generation,or diving into a new book.
Digging out my popcorn popper, I pull down the kernels, butter, and salt. I measure out what I need into the machine and turn it on. I push the start button.
A single knock on the door has me calling out, “Coming.”
It may be James checking in on me. Part of me suspects he lingered out of a sense of obligation to watch over me while everyone else is gone.
“Davis!” A large grin belts across my face. “I thought your flight didn’t get in until nine.”
“I took an earlier flight.” He holds up a bag with Gemma’s name printed in fancy script. “I promised someone ice cream andStar Trek, remember?”
My stomach swoops. “I remember.” Lifting to my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck, my mouth inches from his. “Thank you.”
“Thankyoufor wearing these.” He pats my butt with his free hand.
“Do you and my butt want to be alone?” I wiggle my ass, knowing how good they look in these yoga pants.
“It is a remarkable ass.”
“Men,” I scoff playfully.
“Is my girlfriend jealous of her own ass?”
“Girlfriend?”
Outside of Hope dubbing Davis “My CEO Boyfriend” in front of the yogurt shop, there have been no labels. Despite not physically seeing him since Sunday, we’ve not really been apart. Our sometimes flirty but now deepening text threat is seldom quiet. We even video chatted last night. Still, we haven’t set parameters for what’s happening beyond both our admissions that we have zero desire to see anyone else.
His forehead creases. “I thought… Is it too soon? I should have asked first. Do you want to be?”
“I don’t know if it’s too soon…” My mouth tugs up just a little bit more. “But I don’t care, because I want to be your girlfriend.”
“Awesomesauce.” He smirks, causing me to giggle.
“Such a dork,” I whisper, capturing his mouth in a slow kiss.
Chuckling, he nuzzles his nose against mine. “Remember on our first date when you said you already knew kissing me would be the worst thing ever?”
“What I said is that I didn’t think I’d like it.”
“Oh, you like it.” Gaze smoldering, he traces his thumb along the outline of my mouth.
“Perhaps.” I peer up through my lashes. “I may require more sampling to be sure. You know… in the name of science.”
“Science.” He slants his mouth over mine.
