Page 40 of The Goode Girls of Maple Lane
“So this is what you look like first thing in the morning.”
“I did try to warn you.”
“Consider me horrified.” He scoots closer and kisses me before I can apologize for my chaotic hair or my morning breath, neither of which seems to faze him, and he stays close when he breaks the kiss, keeping one hand tucked under his cheek while the other roams my face, tracing my cheekbone, my eyebrows, my jaw. “Last night wassogood, and the last thing I want to do is start today by breaking your trust, but I have to confess”—he pauses just long enough to make me worry—“I’m pretty sure I spent a significant portion of the night spooning your dog.”
As I relax into a laugh, Aggie rolls onto her back while looking adoringly at Everett.
“Enjoy it while you can,” I tell her as I rub her belly. “This willnotbecome a habit.”
She completely disregards me, drinking in attention from both of us.
We spend a lazy half hour lounging in bed together, doting on Aggie, stealing gentle caresses and not-so-gentle caresses, talking about the upcoming week and where we might fit in time togetheraround our busy schedules, and lingering in the afterglow of a night that felt both right on time and long overdue. But eventually we rally and reluctantly get dressed.
Everett fights a smile as he glances at my TV.
“I’m still laughing aboutDeadpool,” he says.
I shrug as I zip up my jeans.
“What can I say?” I ask. “If my dog has a fan crush...”
He sidles up behind me and nuzzles my ear with his nose.
“You sure your dog’s the one with the fan crush?” he asks.
I reach for the remote. “I know you think I’m lying, but just watch.”
I turn on the TV and flip through a quick selection of movie previews while Everett embraces me from behind and Aggie watches from her bed while waiting to go out.
A shirtless Channing Tatum? Nothing.
A broody Timothée Chalamet? Not even a blink.
I click onDefinitely, Maybe, a 2008 Ryan Reynolds film we haven’t watched yet. As soon as he appears on-screen, Aggie’s off her bed and sitting in front of the TV, totally rapt.
“Do I want to know how you figured this out?” Everett asks through another laugh.
“You want to be grateful we had two guilt-free hours to do our own thing,” I tell him.
“Fair enough,” he says.
We let her watch while we finish assembling ourselves. Then Everett joins us for our morning walk and I marvel at the idyllic bubble I’ve woken up in, where I’m sex-sore, holding hands, and laughing about early Christmas decorations going up while wheeling my dog through the last of the dampened fall leaves on a mistymid-November morning. I can’t stop smiling, every time I look at this beautiful man and this beautiful dog, and wonder how I got here.
Everett kisses me in the elevator as we ride upward, and I drop the makeshift handle of Aggie’s wagon extension so I can rake my hands through his hair while he finds his way under my sweater to play with my breasts. We pause at each floor but don’t fully stop until we pass five, smoothing our hair and clothes just in time for the doors to open, revealing Tegan and Regina in the sixth-floor hall.
We exchange friendly greetings and I briefly introduce everyone as Everett and I wheel Aggie out of the elevator, and as Regina and Tegan step inside, both patting Aggie as they pass.
As the doors close, Regina says in a hushed voice, “Called it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tegan says. “You’ll get your twenty when we’re back.”
Then they’re gone, leaving Everett, Aggie, and me alone.
I blink at the closed elevator doors. “Did they just...”
“Yep.” Everett sets a hand on the small of my back, steering me toward my door so we can enjoy the pastries we brought home last night. “They sure did.”
“But we weren’t... we’re not... I mean, how did they know?”
