“Sixteen. Last time you cried.”
“Hmm . . . my aunt’s funeral. She was my mom’s sister and much younger than her. She was almost more of a big sister to me than an aunt. She kept me grounded in the crazy family and world that was my life. She was probably the most influential person in my life.” My aunt was the glue that held me together when everything with my family went to shit. She’s the one who encouraged me to do good, instead of following in my father’s footsteps.
“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Saige says softly, her tone compassionate.
“Me too. It was unexpected. Cancer.” My voice cracks.
“I hate cancer.”
“I do too.” I shake my head a little.
“I’d love to hear more about her,” she says, sitting up a little taller in her chair.
“I have so many stories,” I tell her. “I’d love to tell you more about her sometime, but let’s not bring down the mood.”
“Deal.” She smiles and moves on. “Favorite book?”
“Oh, gosh—” I tip my head back and think about all the books I’ve read.
She eyes me. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite book. You have an entire library in there.” She gestures to the house.
I narrow my eyes in thought. “I’d probably say something by Dan Brown.”
“Interesting,” she remarks, but she keeps any comments to herself. “Eighteen. You’re almost done with today’s interrogation.” She giggles. “When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“A cop.” I smile at the memory of playing cops and robbers with the kids in my neighborhood. “Until my dad told me that being a pig wasn’t an option for his son.” My dad. The thief. Always working against the law. I fucking hate him.
“Wow, your dad sounds like a real asshole.” Immediately, she covers her mouth, looking regretful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
I reach out and touch her hand. “He is an asshole, which is why he isn’t a part of my life anymore. This is a good thing.”
She blows out a long breath, “Then good. But I’m still sorry I said that. I never want to insult your family.”
I shake off her apology and take another sip of beer. “Next.”
“Nineteen. Biggest regret.”
“Ooooh, you went there.” I laugh. “I believe we all have a lot of regrets, Saige. I can’t name just one. I’m just trying to live my life right now to the fullest, so that I don’t spend the rest of it looking back on things I could’ve done or should’ve done, or said, or did. Make sense?”
She nods gently. “I like that answer.” Her smile is warm “Okay, final question,” she says before taking a quick sip of wine. “It’s a doozy, so brace yourself.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Hit me with it.”
“I don’t do insta-love, Holt, so what’re we doing here?” She tugs at her bottom lip nervously.
I damn near choke on a swallow of beer. Insta-love? It hadn’t occurred to me that this was so quick because I feel like I’ve known her forever.
She goes on, unapologetic. “I mean, we’re moving at the speed of a silver bullet, but I’m not even sure what this is.” Her eyes widen in expectation.
“Does it need to be defined?” I ask, setting down my fork and knife.
Her green eyes are still confident, but they have questions. “Defined, no. But I think we should set clear boundaries. I mean, it’s weird enough that I’ve slept with my boss. But is this going to be a fuck-buddy thing? Do we get together on the weekends for a roll in the sheets, then at work I’m just Saige, the girl that works for you? Am I going to be your dirty little secret?” She whispers, leaning in. “I think I just need some clarification on what we’re doing here. I think that’s fair.”
I twist my face in disgust that she’d think she was a dirty little secret. “Dirty little secret? God, no, Saige. Come on.” What the fuck does she think I am?
“Well . . .” She wavers.
“You’re looking for a definition.”
“Clarification,” she sighs.
“We’re definitely not fuck buddies.” I think about that for a second and frown at her. “Wait, do you have fuck buddies?” Jesus, I can’t believe I asked her that, but so help me God if she says yes—
“No.” She chuckles and rolls her eyes.
The relief is tangible, but I still have to ask, “When’s the last time you slept with someone other than me?” If we’re going to talk about this, us, I may as well go for the jugular and put it all out on the table.
“Friday night.” She cringes, and my mouth goes dry.
I feel the blood rush from my head and settle in the pit of my stomach. Friday night was the night before we had drinks. The night she asked me out at Bar 51. The night before I had her underneath me. Who the fuck was she with? Rowan? No, he’s gay. Isaiah?
My fists are already clenching. I’ll fucking end him.
Suddenly, a huge cackle escapes her lips, and she presses her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face. I’m kidding! I was totally kidding.” She laughs again.