Page 70 of Only for Tonight
“Fuck if I know. We gutted the house when I bought it and then the interior design team asked me what I was looking for. Then they brought me all these options and I was like, I don’t know, so they staged the house. I walked in, saw it, and then said sure, because it would be an asshole thing for me to be like ‘I hate it, take it all back,’” I admit to her. “Who was I going to take shopping with me? My mother? It would be a pain in the ass for her to come all the way out from Dallas to do it with me. My next option would be Tori. I would have been living in Barbie’s Dreamhouse if it was up to her.” She laughs. “So you can do whatever it is you want to do. You don’t like the couch, buy a new one. Want to scrap the formal living room, do it. Actually, come to think of it, we should totally scrap the room, I hate it.”
“You hate the formal living room?” she asks me.
“Yes, it’s dry and cold, and just using the word formal makes it seem that you can’t go in there unless it's for special occasions. I think I used that room twice and it was when my parents came down for a holiday. We can make it into another room. Whatever you want.” I smile at her. “Why were you so scared to bring this up to me?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never lived with someone before, so I don’t know what the official rules are.” She looks up at me. “Have you ever lived with someone?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I was too afraid to live with anyone.” I chuckle. “I thought it would be annoying.”
“Wow,” she says, moving out of my arms. “You are the one who leaves their shit lying around all the time.”
“I do that on purpose,” I tell her. “I was waiting for you to say something about it.”
“You left your wet used towel on the floor in the bathroom because you wanted me to say something to you about it?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, grabbing the soap and rubbing it in between my hands before turning her and washing her back. “I knew it bothered you when I dropped it, and then I saw your eyes go to it and not say anything about it.”
“You’re a jerk.” She looks over her shoulder at me.
“Also, another thing, I would like to get some pictures made and put them up around the house.”
“What type of pictures?” she asks me.
“Pictures of us when we were younger and then pictures of us now. I’m sure if we ask someone, they have pictures of us that night in Dallas.” She smiles as she turns around and takes the soap from me and lathers her hands, washing my chest. “You have carte blanche, Ari, to make our house a real home.” I bend and kiss her lips, the urge to tell her that I’m falling in love with her teetering on the edge.
We get out of the shower together and I watch her slip on one of my T-shirts before grabbing her phone. “I’m going to call my father and set up the meeting for next week.” She puts her hand to her stomach. “I might throw up.” My eyes go big. “Sorry, not like that, like I’m so nervous I could throw up.”
“How about we not joke about you and throwing up until, I don’t know, the next time you are pregnant,” I tell her as she walks away from me and I grab a pair of shorts, putting them on. “I’ll get you some water.”
“We aren’t even done with this one”—she laughs—“and you are already planning a number two.”
“Baby, if it means sinking my cock into you, I’m already on number five.” I wink at her and walk out of the room.
I hear his voice answer after one ring. “Hey, princess,” he greets her, making me smile, “it’s about time you call me back.”
“Dad, I spoke to you yesterday.” She laughs at him. “I told you I was headed to Palm Springs. After you gave me the whole ‘why don’t you call me’ speech.”
“It feels longer than that.” He chuckles. “How is California treating you? You still love it?”
I grab the bottle of water as well as the bowl of fruit she has been making herself every single morning. I walk back in and she looks up at me as I hand her the bottle of water and put the bowl of fruit on the bedside table. She laughs. “I still love it.” She looks straight at me, smiling, and I bend to kiss the top of her head silently. “I was calling to tell you that I’ll be in Dallas next week and was hoping we could do lunch.” I look over at her as I walk around the bed, with my eyebrows pinched together at her question. Knowing full fucking well he’s going to catch on with that question.
“Do lunch?” He immediately picks up on it. “Since when do you ask me to do lunch?”
She groans, “It’s during the week, so I don’t know if you made plans or not.” I walk around the other side of the bed, lying down on my side and putting my head in my hand as I watch her talk to her father. “Forget I asked, I’ll just do lunch with Mom.”
“What time are you arriving? I’ll pick you up at the airport.” She looks over at me and I lift a hand, telling her I have no idea what to say.
“I don’t have the time yet, I’ll send it to you once I book the ticket,” she tells him and I nod, making a mental note to get her a plane ticket when she gets off the phone.
“Sounds perfect, sweetheart. I look forward to having lunch with you.”
“Okay, I get it, Dad,” she grumbles, “I’ll see you next week.”
“I love you, honey,” he says and she looks down at the phone, her bottom lip quivering.
“Love you too,” she replies and quickly hangs up on him before he notices her voice cracking. “Your child has me all emotional and shit.” She looks at me with her eyes filled full of tears and it’s like you kicked me in the stomach. Apart from watching her be sick, this is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. She wipes a tear away. “Looks like we’re going to Dallas,” she tries to joke.
I smirk at her. “Back to the scene of the crime.” I wink at her and the tears are suddenly gone and in their place is the laughter I love.
