Maybe Michael left a candle burning. Maybe be forgot to turn off his iron, or the oven. Maybe he left his dishwasher running and it was flooding the place, or a thirsty plant desperately needed water.
Maybe I was way out of line.
After I pulled in, I decided in my typical fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants fashion that if anyone asked, I was going to be "lost." I hoped no one would have the opportunity to look in the car. Lost and a fancy GPS system didn't go together.
Myra McEntireI realized I'd never asked him about his major. Probably wasn't time travel.I didn't think our local college was quite that progressive.
Myra McEntireHer words sounded accusatory, and after the way she'd grabbed the binder, I couldn't help going on the defensive. "I'd apologize, but I'm not happy about it either.
Myra McEntireHey,bro, do you think you can put Shorty back on her chain?"
I stepped forward with my hands on my hips, only slightly intimidated to find Kaleb almost eye level with me when he was seated and I was standing.
"First of all, no one is the boss of me but me.Secondly, if you ever reference my 'chain' again, I will kick your ass." I jabbed him hard in the chest with my finger. Possibly breaking it. "And thirdly, don't call me Shorty."
Kaleb sat silently for a second, his eyes wide as he looked at Michael. "Where did you find her? Can you get me one?"
I blew out a loud, frustrated sigh and dropped down beside Michael, who didn't even try to hide his smile. "You should probably apologize to Emerson."
"I am sorry." Kaleb grinned at me. "Sorry I didn't meet you first.
Drunk," she said.
"Shrew," he replied.
"Kids!" Michael held up his hands in a T shape. "Time out."
Ava shot Kaleb a dirty look and left the kitchen. Michael followed.
He didn't look back.
"Why don't you tell her how you really feel?" I asked Kaleb when they were gone.
"I have from the beginning." Kaleb put his arms on the table and propped his chin on his fist, gazing at me. "Kind of like I'm about to tell you that I might be in love with you."
"Really?" I laughed. "Because of all of our deep conversations and the quality time we've spent together? Or was it just love at first sight?"
"Something like that," he said, teasing.
And if anyone asks, you don't know where Michael and I are."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "I don't know where you are.
What are you chopping up?"
"The trinity: onions, green peppers, and celery. Etouffee's going in the pot. Dune and Nate are on the way back from their consults, and they're bringing crawfish. So," he said, scraping bits of cut vegetables from his knife onto the side of the stainless-steel pan, "final judgement's on the way.
Ever since the day I got a voice mail and met up with a slightly older woman at Riverbank Park, the title of 'my girl' has been reserved."
"So you like older women?"
He lifted his hand and gave his bedroom door a solid push. A soft snick told me it had closed behind me.
"I like you. And I see now that I should have cleared that up a long time ago.
Did I say thank you?" Michael asked as we ducked into Liam's office. "If not, thank you." He raised our joined hands to his lips and kissed the inside of my wrist.
"I can't remember." I couldn't remember anything. Hello, erogenous zone. "And you're welcome." He just grinned.
Still holding hands, we stepped into the veil.
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