“Hm?” I glance over my shoulder, follow his gaze to the labeled jar on the counter beside him. “Oh. Uh, sugar. My best friend’s an idiot.”
Bruce laughs again and shakes his head. I swallow, force a smile, and round the bar to pick up the blanket. I fold it quickly with methodical movements and drape it over the back of the couch. The bathroom door opens a moment later, and Holden shuffles out looking somewhat refreshed. He still wears the clothes he arrived in, and they’re rumpled, but his eyes are more alert. He smiles and waves jauntily at Bruce but approaches me. His arms loop around my waist, and he pulls me in. His lips brush against mine.
“Sorry,” he whispers against my mouth, and I shiver at the ghost of his minty breath.
“For what?”
“For having to go.”
I shrug and lean up to press our lips together more firmly. “I understand. Just lemme know when you get where you’re going.”
“Absolutely.” He releases me upon Bruce’s pointed throat-clearing from where he stands in the shadows of the entryway. Holden rolls his eyes and runs his thumb across my cheek. “Tell Ashton I said hi. I’ll miss him.”
I hear theI’ll miss youhidden in his words. I don’t mention it. I just promise and watch him walk away. When the door closes behind them, I flop onto the couch and groan. Loudly. Of course this would happen. It’s just my luck that somehow, some way, my best efforts and vows to myself failed. Feelings interjected themselves into the situation. I was content with what we had, the sex and nothing more.
Here I am, though, wanting more and knowing it will be the death of me. It’s the cure and the disease, and isn’t that just my luck?
I hesitate then go in search of my phone. The photo I took this morning is still on the screen when I unlock the device, and I let my gaze track over the shadows and light. Without letting myself overthink it, I bring up the text thread with Holden and type out a message with trembling hands. My heart races, and I feel sick as I press Send.
Dealla
I have a confession to make…
His response comes quickly:
Holden
What’s that?
Dealla
I’m no good at casual.
Holden
Do me a favor. Go look in your top left drawer.
My brows pinch together, and I blink down at my phone for a few seconds. Finally, I push myself to my feet and pad into my bedroom. There in the drawer, nestled under my pile of socks, is a long black box with a silver bow wrapped around it. I hesitate then carefully extricate it from the multicolored fabric surrounding it. A coppery taste fills my mouth when I bite down too hard on the inside of my cheek. I ignore the blood to pull off the lid instead. My fingers shake, but I lift the necklace from its place in the satin lining without dropping it.
The silver chain is nearly weightless between my pinched fingertips. The pendant at the bottom sparkles in the sunlight, and a sound I can’t describe escapes me at the sight of the teardrop-shaped gemstone—Ashton’s birthstone. I palm the necklace with care then head back to my phone.
Three messages wait for me.
Holden
Do you like it?
D?
Getting a little nervous here…
I sniff, wiping at the dampness slipping down my cheeks, and draw in a steadying breath. My heart doesn’t slow. It only pounds and races and threatens to give out on me. I tap out a response.
Dealla
It’s gorgeous. I really love it. But how did you know Ashton’s birthstone?
Holden
