I slather my pancakes in butter as he shuts off the stove and settles in on the stool beside me. Cutting off a giant slice, I shove it in my mouth. I moan with satisfaction when the first bite hits my tongue, so hungry I barely bother to chew as I devour the stack on my plate.
Chase chuckles, but doesn’t tease me — he’s too busy shoving his own pancakes in his mouth.
“That was the bestever,” I breathe after I’ve cleared my plate, my hands resting on my stomach.
Chase snorts as he pushes his empty plate away. “Oh, really? Better than sex?”
“Definitely,” I tease, elbowing him in the side.
His eyes narrow, the look in them making my stomach flip. “Is that so?”
“What can I say? They were really good panca—hey!”
My squeal of protest is lost as Chase jumps off his barstool, so fast I barely see him move, plants his shoulder against my stomach, and throws me over his shoulder. I don’t even have time to form words, because before I know what’s happening, he’s marched us back into his room and tossed me down on the bed.
“Chase—”
He’s silent as he reaches for me, and the look on his face makes all the thoughts in my head flee. The t-shirt goes up over my head and disappears, Chase’s underwear vanishes like magic, and then, faster than I can blink, he’s on me,inme, grinding his body against mine in a slow, torturous pace that makes me forget about breakfast foods.
***
“Better than pancakes?” he asks, after we’ve both cooled down.
“I was just teasing, you know.” I press a kiss to his chest. “You didn’t have to go all caveman.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
I grin against his skin. “True enough.”
His hands slide through the hair at the nape of my neck, massaging with rough fingers. We’re quiet, for a while.
“You’re not wearing your necklace.” His words, spoken in a soft voice, still send a jolt through me. “I’ve never seen you take it off, before.”
I don’t say a word, but I can feel my body radiating tension.
“Gemma?”
I swallow. “It’s… something Phoebe said.”
He waits.
“She said she has one just like it,” I whisper. “A gift from her father.”
“Sunshine…”
“Which means… There’s a pretty good chance my mother has been lying to me about him for years.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do.” I push up to look at him. “She said he never tried to contact me. Never sent a card, never sent a letter. Nothing. Only a check, in the beginning, before he realized she wasn’t going to take his money and get rid of me.” I clear my throat, hoping it’ll dislodge the emotion forming a lump there. “But if that’s true, why would he give me a necklace? The same one he gave his own daughter, years ago? Why would he do that, unless…”
The lump expands, blocking my airway and cutting off my words.
“Unless he wanted to be a part of your life.” Chase finishes for me, when he sees I’m too choked up to form words. I drop my head back to his chest and let him stroke my hair, let him murmur quiet assurances that it’ll be okay, that we’ll figure it out, against the crown of my head. And, for a little while, I let myself believe him.
“Have you considered getting in contact with him?” he asks, some time later.
My body goes tight at just the thought.