Her theory that their attraction would be defused by consummation was wrong, to put it mildly. The more he had her, the more he wanted her. The clear boundaries of their arrangement had freed him from all of his inhibitions surrounding her, and to his surprise, she met him with enthusiasm at every turn. Any past friction between them had been totally self-imposed; once they stopped fighting their temptation, they were so in sync that it almost frightened him.
The fast-approaching deadline of Monday should have put a damper on things, but it only increased their urgency. Ethan tried not to think about it. Even though their physical relationship would soon be over, they were still bound by their contract for nearly four more months. Now that the cold war between them had officially reached an armistice, Ethan found himself grateful for how many more opportunities they had lined up to spend time together—even in non-naked contexts.
Late Sunday evening, after they had made thorough use of the dual-head shower, they sat in bed watching television, her legs across his lap, feeding each other dinner off their room service plates. Three months ago, witnessing this kind of display would have made his stomach turn, the prospect of his own involvement in it downright unthinkable. But now, Ethan happily took the bite of steak Grey proffered from her fork. They were the most clothed they’d been all day; him in his underwear, her swaddled in one of the resort’s enormous fluffy robes.
He idly stroked one hand up and down her shin, letting it creep a little higher each time. Over her knee, up her thigh. Once he got high enough, she squirmed a little, laughing.
“Let me at least eat my ice cream before it melts,” she demurred, reaching for a covered dish on the other side of the bed. He let his other hand join the exploration this time.
“We can put it in the freezer,” he murmured into her ear. She playfully swatted him away.
“I don’t know if you know this, but we don’t have to compensate for three years of celibacy in thirty-six hours.”
“Too late.”
She laughed, spooning a bite of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again, she noticed him watching her and smiled shyly. The fact that she could still get bashful over something so small, after a day and a half of him seeing her naked in every position known to man, charmed him so much that his stomach did a little flip.
“I gotta enjoy this while I can. I hope they make me do some crazy muscle-building diet where I’ll have to get up in the middle of the night to eat cod, like The Rock.”
“Just as long as you don’t wake me up when you do.”
She paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. Fuck. Why had he said that? The only topic they’d been careful to avoid: the prospect of things continuing past tomorrow. He hadn’t meant it. It had just slipped out. He knew that it would be impossible. Their sexual compatibility, as electric as it might be, was not enough to sustain a full-blown relationship. They both knew that.
He cleared his throat and shifted. He needed to change the subject, fast.
“We’ve really been slacking on those questions.”
Her eyes glinted with amusement.
“You’re right. How will we ever get to know each other now?”
“Well, I sure hope Sugar Sweetums or whoever won’t be grilling me on your blow job skills.”
Grey rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. “Sugar Clarke. But if she does, you’ll say…?”
“Top-notch, obviously.”
“Brownnoser.” She put the empty ice cream dish on the nightstand and grabbed her phone as he reached for the remote to turn off the TV. “I’ll try to find a juicy one.”
She snuggled back against his shoulder as she scrolled, and he put his arm around her, planting a soft kiss on the crown of her head without even thinking. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Okay. Here’s a two-parter. Part one: ‘What is your most treasured memory?’?”
He answered immediately. “When my kids were born.”
“That is such a dad answer. You’re so predictable,” she teased. He laughed, squeezing her shoulder.
“I’m serious. It’s pretty amazing. And terrifying. Just…overwhelming. In every sense of the word.”
He thought about the first time he’d held Sydney, her tiny fingers grasping his. Unraveled by the thought that he’d played even the tiniest part in creating something so perfect. Vowing to do better than his own father had. He felt a squeeze in his chest. He’d fucked that up, too. He didn’t like to think about all the firsts he’d missed since he’d moved out. The way he’d been demoted overnight from active participant in their lives to glorified bystander, perpetually playing catch-up. How he had only himself to blame.
Grey seemed to sense the shift in his mood and nuzzled deeper into his neck. He craned his head to look at her.
“Do you want kids?”
She looked up in alarm. “We didn’t run out of condoms, did we?”
He laughed. “Just curious. That seems like the type of thing our friend Sugar might ask; we should probably be on the same page.”
She pursed her lips and considered it, her hand sliding down to rest on her abdomen almost unconsciously. “I don’t know. I like kids, I guess. But I’ve never felt strongly about growing my own. People keep telling me I will once I turn thirty, which, whatever. Kind of condescending. Maybe they’re right. For now, I could take or leave ’em.”
“I get that. I hadn’t thought much about it, either, until I had them. I ended up with some pretty great ones, though.”
She smirked. “I wouldn’t know, I’m contractually banned from ever meeting them.” He laughed, and she snuggled back against him. “I feel like the miracle of life should be off the table. That one’s kind of a gimme.”
“Fine. You tell me yours while I think of something else.”
She put her phone down and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, pulling it straight as if to inspect it for split ends.
“So…the summer after sixth grade, I got cast in my first big movie.”
“What was it?”
“The Sister Switch?” It was a question, like she doubted he’d heard of it.
He looked at her in surprise. “You were in that? My kids love that movie—I’ve probably seen it fifteen times.”
“Sort of. Not really. I was Morgan Mitchell’s double. So, like, all the scenes that had both twins were shot with both of us, switching off who was playing who, and then they spliced them together in post so they were both her.”
He stroked her hair. “And that’s your most treasured memory?”
She half shrugged. She toyed with the palm of his other hand, tracing her fingers over it as she spoke. “I guess so. It was my first time on a big movie set. I mean, I’d been on set before, I’d done commercials and procedurals and soaps and everything, but that was nothing compared to this. We shot in Paris, in Vermont, in Big Sur. Morgan and I got really close; it was like actually having a sister. The whole set was like a big family. It was nice. I felt really…cared for. I feel like I’ve been chasing that experience ever since,” she finished softly.
He turned her palm over so it was flat against his. “Are you still in touch with Morgan at all?”
She shook her head. “We were for a while. We would see each other once or twice a year, whenever she was in New York. We kind of drifted apart when…well. You know. I wrote to her the first time she went to rehab, she sent me a nice note back. We DM sometimes. She was so sweet when I knew her. It’s sad. I don’t think she’s ever had good people around her. You want to talk about scary stage moms, hers was…intense.”
“I used to see her out all the time. Morgan, I mean. Well, actually, her mom, too, sometimes. We partied together a few times; she must not have even been twenty-one yet. She was pretty wild.”
“Yeah.” Grey sounded a million miles away. “I think about her a lot, actually. Like if I had been more successful. Maybe that would’ve been me.”
“Maybe. You’d have to be able to handle more than one drink per night, though.”
Grey laughed, and the sound made his heart feel like it was about to burst.