If I didn’t know better, I’d be tempted to think her blank expression means she doesn’t care. Except Kat always cares. About everything. Even my dumb ass.
“I guess I wanted to know if that bothers you. If you were okay with me piercing people. Most of the time, it’s piercing ears or some guy’s nipple, but sometimes girls come in for more exotic things.”
She nibbles her bottom lip. “Are you planning to call her?”
What the fuck? “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
She shrugs, her expression sad. “Because I get that we’re not really together, and you can do what you want, I guess.”
My grip on her hip tightens, but before I can say anything, her shoulders slump. “Are we setting ourselves up for trouble?” She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “Are we too different?”
“What does that mean?” A heaviness settles on me, a sinking sensation I haven’t felt in a while. Not since Kat and I started whatever this is. Her eyes travel over me, over my tattoos, and I get what she’s trying to say before she even puts words to the sentiment.
She shakes her head. “You’re leaving soon. And with what happened tonight... Am I keeping you from exploring other options?”
I scrub my face, not sure if I should be pissed or amused.
At least I’m not alone in this. Feeling this confused.
“Let’s just clear up this shit right now. Number one, yes, I fucking missed you. Two, I would never go out with anyone or mess around with another woman while I’m with you, and three, we might as well call a spade a spade because God knows I’d fucking kill any man who laid a finger on you. So if it’s okay with you, while we’re doing this, we’re monogamous. Cool?” Yeah, so basically two and three are the same thing. I wanted to tell her that fuck yes, we’re in a relationship, but mid-rant I realized I couldn’t because that would lead her on.
She just stares at me in that hypnotic way that makes me feel slightly dizzy.
I pull her closer. “I’m not really a casual sex kind of guy, Kat.” Sure, I’ve had it, but I’ve always preferred being in a relationship. “What we have here, this is special to me.” I want to say more, but I don’t. I shouldn’t.
Finally, she nods and bites that lip again, only this time it’s to hide a smile. Then she whispers, “I have a way we can forget all about Shana Boobalicious.”
And then she grabs my hand, the one with the phone number on it, lifts her shirt and places it on her breast as she arches into me.
I laugh, relieved that I didn’t hurt her feelings, and put every ounce of emotion I can behind the kiss I give her. “Who the fuck is Shana?”
48
Katherine
This has become my favorite thing, eavesdropping on Brady while he puts Izzy to bed. Tonight, he’s serenading her with Baby, It’s Cold Outside. And he’s terrible, like totally off key, but oh, my God, he’s adorable.
I close my eyes as I imagine him bent over her crib, stroking her soft little tufts of hair. Sometimes he rocks her to sleep. He bought her a little night light, a turtle that projects stars on the sky, and he tells her stories about the constellations and Greek gods. She likes the one he tells her about beautiful Princess Andromeda.
When he closes out his off-key song, my heart flutters in my chest.
“Night night, sweet pea.” His deep voice comes through the monitor, and then I hear the distinct sound of him kissing her, probably on her forehead.
I shouldn’t do this to myself. I shouldn’t focus on all of the things I love about him. I shouldn’t focus on how much he adores his niece or how he slaves all day here at the farm before he works half the night at the tattoo shop. I shouldn’t care this much. But I do.
When he comes out of the nursery, I hold out his hot chocolate, unable to hold in my grin.
He clears his throat. “Don’t laugh. I know I can’t sing.” He watches me over the lip of his mug as he takes a sip.
“Izzy loves it when you sing.” I put air quotes around the word, and he shakes his head. I don’t grab him or wrap him in a hug the way I want to. I don’t tell him how much I love seeing him and Izzy together or that I’d love to pack us a picnic and take her to the park this weekend. Boundaries.
His big palm rubs the stubble on his chin. Out of the blue, he says, “I hate leaving you guys.”
My heart thuds wildly in my chest until I realize he’s talking about heading off to work. Not about returning to Boston. Duh.
Forcing a smile, I whisper. “Gotta do what ya gotta do.”