“Hope wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow.”
“Sounds great.” The unease in my stomach loosens immediately. I lower my mouth to the side of her neck, pressing a slow kiss there. “What’s wrong?”
“I was kind of freaking out that you’d think it was too fast.” Every time she shifts, my cock jerks. I tug her closer to keep her still, or I’ll end up fucking her into the mattress until morning. “I mean, you’ve met Hope, but dinner’s…different. More formal. Like meeting the parents.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” My lips find that spot behind her ear that she likes. “What time?”
“Oh.” She lets out that little sound she does before she cries. I hold her tighter, comforting her. Letting her know she can let go and lean on me. “Nine. After your shift and”—sniff—“that way, you can shower and don’t have to rush. Is”—sniff—“that okay?”
After my shift, with enough time to get a haircut and start my first trial with Fraser? Couldn’t be better.
Except my trials aren’t my main concern.
She is.
“Come here.” I turn her over to face me. Her cheek is warm, soft, and wet beneath my palm. My eyes burrow into her watery ones, searching. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
“I wasn’t wrong about you.” More tears run down her cheeks, soaking my hand. She curls her delicate fingers around my wrist. “You’re perfect.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I hold back a scoff. Don’t want to wound her, or worse, to tell her just how flawed I am. “But I’ll work my ass off to be the best man for you.”
“Let’s agree to disagree.” She scrunches her nose. Goddamn adorable. “About that first part, of course.”
“Of course.” Leaning in, I kiss and lick the tears off her cheek until she’s no longer crying. “Anything for you.”
“Hmm.” Her eyelids settle over her blue eyes.
She’s about to fall asleep, but then she says something.
It’s barely a breath. Barely a sound.
I hear it anyway.
I’ll always hear her when she tells me she loves me.
23
LILITH
“Fuck!” I shout as smoke starts rising from the oven. “Fuck, fuck,fuck.”
This has never happened to me. Ever. Pot roast with potatoes is my specialty.
Hope is better at everything else, whether it’s cooking or baking. She’s a pro.
I, though, only have this. Whenever Hope and the Griggs ate it, they moaned because they loved it so much.
And Alaric, who’ll be here any minute now, won’t get to have it.
All because I messed up the timer on the new oven.
After convincing myself I’d set it right, I went to take a shower, blow-dry my hair, put on makeup, and slip into the cute red polka-dot dress I ordered online. The whole process took hours, way longer than it should have, since my mind drifted back to Alaric the entire time.
Who did he kidnap yesterday on his day off, and more importantly, who did he save?
I don’t have the answers to these questions, since I didn’t stalk him last night, but I do know this: When Alaric talked to me, whether through texts or when he came over, he danced around the truth. Meaning, he has a new abuser in his storage unit.
He has his reasons for holding on to his secrets, sure. Our relationship is still new. Still, I couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t stop obsessing over it, a mistake that I think cost us our meal.