and burnt toast, Calvin and I stood at the sink with soapy hands, washing dishes.
“You opened the gallery within a year of leaving the mansion. I’d hoped your plans were to enroll in school.”
I shrugged. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t afford it. And I didn’t want to waste any more time. I needed to do something productive.”
“College is productive, don’t you think?”
“The gallery gives me a creative outlet, but it’s also physical. Like, tangible, I guess. That was good for me after the mansion. It keeps me balanced.”
“What about the money I gave you?”
“I paid Frida what I owed her, and the rest is in a savings account. I couldn’t bring myself to . . . It felt like you were throwing money at me to fix—” I looked away, but I didn’t think I needed to finish my sentence. “Anyway, it’s been a tough few years getting the gallery open and I’m in a lot of debt, but now I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
He shook his head as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. “That money was for you to start over, Cat. To build a life that made you happy.” He caught my smile and nodded his chin at me. “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me Cat.”
“Want me to call you something else?” he asked with a teasing grin. “Sparrow?” His face fell almost immediately.
“I don’t care what you call me,” I said. “Sparrow—it kind of turns me on, though.”
He arched an eyebrow and passed me the dishtowel. “Really?”
I nodded, crossed my arms, and then uncrossed them. “But I–I’m not sure, or I don’t think I’m, you know, ready for that. You were right the other night. I was in a bad place. Thank you for leaving.”
He stepped closer to me and took the rag from my hand to toss it on the counter. His hands covered my hair, smoothing it from my face. “As badly as I want you, our issues can’t be fixed with sex. I can be patient. For now, all I want is to be a normal man who takes care of his girlfriend.”
“You want to be my boyfriend?” I asked.
He laughed. “Sometimes I forget you’re so young.”
I frowned. “I’m not that young anymore.”
“Eleven years,” he said. “That’s our age difference.”
That time we both laughed. I placed my palms on his chest, and it expanded with a deep inhale. “I already have a boyfriend,” I said.
He cupped my jaw and brought my lips inches from his. “And it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to hunt him down for touching what’s mine.”
“I wasn’t yours.”
“Yes, you were.” His words were a whisper against the corner of my mouth. “Does he know you better than I do? Does he fuck you better?”
I moaned involuntarily, licking my lips. He released my face suddenly and stepped back, shaking his head.
We moved to the bed. In my small apartment, there wasn’t much room, but I didn’t think either of us minded. Since there was no headboard, he sat with his back against the wall, and I placed my head in his lap. He brushed his hand over my hairline.
“I should call Grant back,” I said. His fingers stilled in my hair. I swallowed, keeping my gaze forward. When I finally glanced up, he was staring out the window. “If I don’t return his call, he’ll come over.”
“Did he treat you well?” Calvin asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “He’s the perfect boyfriend.”
“Was,” he said, and his leg muscles tensed underneath me.
“Yes, was.”
“You should call him. Now.”
My lids fell, a reaction to his touch. “I will.”
“What does this Grant do?”
“Don’t you know?”
He makes a noise between a cough and clearing his throat. “No. I kept my promise to stay away . . . even in the beginning, when I didn’t truly believe it was for the best. I only knew you had a boyfriend and the gallery and that you moved out of your old apartment. It was hard, but I stayed away.” He paused before adding,
“You opened the gallery within a year of leaving the mansion. I’d hoped your plans were to enroll in school.”
I shrugged. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t afford it. And I didn’t want to waste any more time. I needed to do something productive.”
“College is productive, don’t you think?”
“The gallery gives me a creative outlet, but it’s also physical. Like, tangible, I guess. That was good for me after the mansion. It keeps me balanced.”
“What about the money I gave you?”
“I paid Frida what I owed her, and the rest is in a savings account. I couldn’t bring myself to . . . It felt like you were throwing money at me to fix—” I looked away, but I didn’t think I needed to finish my sentence. “Anyway, it’s been a tough few years getting the gallery open and I’m in a lot of debt, but now I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
He shook his head as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. “That money was for you to start over, Cat. To build a life that made you happy.” He caught my smile and nodded his chin at me. “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me Cat.”
“Want me to call you something else?” he asked with a teasing grin. “Sparrow?” His face fell almost immediately.
“I don’t care what you call me,” I said. “Sparrow—it kind of turns me on, though.”
He arched an eyebrow and passed me the dishtowel. “Really?”
I nodded, crossed my arms, and then uncrossed them. “But I–I’m not sure, or I don’t think I’m, you know, ready for that. You were right the other night. I was in a bad place. Thank you for leaving.”
He stepped closer to me and took the rag from my hand to toss it on the counter. His hands covered my hair, smoothing it from my face. “As badly as I want you, our issues can’t be fixed with sex. I can be patient. For now, all I want is to be a normal man who takes care of his girlfriend.”
“You want to be my boyfriend?” I asked.
He laughed. “Sometimes I forget you’re so young.”
I frowned. “I’m not that young anymore.”
“Eleven years,” he said. “That’s our age difference.”
That time we both laughed. I placed my palms on his chest, and it expanded with a deep inhale. “I already have a boyfriend,” I said.
He cupped my jaw and brought my lips inches from his. “And it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to hunt him down for touching what’s mine.”
“I wasn’t yours.”
“Yes, you were.” His words were a whisper against the corner of my mouth. “Does he know you better than I do? Does he fuck you better?”
I moaned involuntarily, licking my lips. He released my face suddenly and stepped back, shaking his head.
We moved to the bed. In my small apartment, there wasn’t much room, but I didn’t think either of us minded. Since there was no headboard, he sat with his back against the wall, and I placed my head in his lap. He brushed his hand over my hairline.
“I should call Grant back,” I said. His fingers stilled in my hair. I swallowed, keeping my gaze forward. When I finally glanced up, he was staring out the window. “If I don’t return his call, he’ll come over.”
“Did he treat you well?” Calvin asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “He’s the perfect boyfriend.”
“Was,” he said, and his leg muscles tensed underneath me.
“Yes, was.”
“You should call him. Now.”
My lids fell, a reaction to his touch. “I will.”
“What does this Grant do?”
“Don’t you know?”
He makes a noise between a cough and clearing his throat. “No. I kept my promise to stay away . . . even in the beginning, when I didn’t truly believe it was for the best. I only knew you had a boyfriend and the gallery and that you moved out of your old apartment. It was hard, but I stayed away.” He paused before adding,
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