Smirking, I shake my head. “It’s cute that you think I’ll fit in there.”
“I won’t be long, then.”
Kissing the top of her head, I wink. “Take your time. I’ll see if I can find us a movie to watch. Maybe I’ll see if Potato feels like bonding yet.”
“Don’t get dressed.” She bites her lip, her eyes dropping to my dick for a second.
“Ihaveto,” I stress. “Trust me, the rest of today will be torture trying to keep my hands off you. Now, time to relax.”
With a final kiss on her head, I leave the bathroom in search of my clothes, her humongous cat, and my phone so I can look at the menus of nearby Chinese restaurants.
In that order.
“Okay, wait, tell me again what happened.” Zee’s laughing so hard, her fork bounces with every bout of laughter and a fried dumpling slides off it, landing on her plate with a small splat.
I shrug. “Lincoln thought he was tough shit and could handle the cold. I challenged him to spend five minutes outside on the porch, naked, to see if his balls could handle the shrinkage.”
“And you stole his clothes.”
“How was I supposed to know the most popular group of girls would walk down my road at that exact moment?”
“You didn’t have to steal his clothes!” Tears stream down her face as she sets her fork down onto her plate, sliding it off her lap and onto the coffee table.
“I wasfourteen.”
“You were a menace.”
“At least he didn’t know who they were! He only knew they were hot. It’s not like he had to face them at school after break.”
“True, but that was still mean.”
“Says the woman who can’t stop laughing.”
“I never said it wasn’t funny!”
Zee and I have spent the day lounging in each other’s arms, watching the same romantic plot line over and over, just in different cities and states. At one point, we both fell asleep, and I swear I don’t think I’ve slept that well in ages. We shared a mug of hot chocolate, ate one too many Christmas cookies, and Potato even did that thing cats do where they rub up against your leg a few times.
Zee says that’s a good thing—I’m winning him over.
Today has been amazing, but the last movie, though, I felt a small shift in her. It was a movie she’d never seen before—one I can’t remember the name of, they’re all almost the same anyway—about a woman whose mother died, so she went back to her small town to clean out the house, and ended up falling for the neighbor.
She seemed to zone out after the mother’s death was introduced into the storyline, which was within the first fifteen minutes.
I suggested we turn it off, but she didn’t want to. Instead, she watched the full hour and thirty-seven minute movie with glassy eyes.
As much as I don’t want to force Elizabeth to tell me about things she’s not ready to talk about, despite all the laughter and fun we’re having, there’s a distance in her that wasn’t there a couple of hours ago, and I fear right now she’s a prisoner of her own thoughts.
When we’ve finished our dinner, I take the empty plate from her lap and go make myself useful in the kitchen, feeling her eyes on me as I clean up. I ignore the pull to her and instead focus on putting away the leftovers, and washing the plates and utensils.
After wiping down the sink, I turn and find her with her head on her hands, her elbow leaning against the kitchen counter. With her hair piled on top of her head, and her face free of any stitch of makeup, she looks effortlessly beautiful.
Teasing, I ask, “See something you like?” and flip the towel over my shoulder.
“Actually, I do. I’ve never had a man do the dishes in my kitchen before. I think I might keep you.”
“I hope you do.” Walking over to her, I wrap my arms around her waist and pepper kisses against her cheek.
She sighs, melting into me.
