“It’s how I like my wine. I don’t like the taste of alcohol, like at all,” I tell him. “Which might have to do with my excessive partying I did in college.”
“You were a party-girl?”
“Hardly. I don’t hold my liquor well, and I still can’t stomach even the smell of tequila after one fateful night that involved jello shots, Taco Bell, and an hour hanging over the toilet there, crying and swearing I’m never drinking again.”
Dean laughs. “I’ve had a few of those experiences too.”
“I’m way too old to wake up hungover now.” I take a small sip of the sweet wine and check on the chicken. The cheese is nice and bubbly and needs just another minute to brown up a bit.
“I remember being able to stay up all night, have beer with breakfast, and hit the gym at noon and feel fantastic,” Dean laughs.
“I never did that, but I used to pull a lot of late nights staying up reading until three or four AM. Now I need a full eight hours of sleep or I’m in a fog all day.”
“There’s nothing like getting old. Once you cross thirty, it’s all downhill.”
“I’m only twenty-eight,” I say, batting my lashes. “A spring chicken compared to you, old man.”
He laughs. “I’m only thirty-four.”
“Yep. Basically dead. Have you checked out nursing homes yet?”
“My grandma is at East Meadows and she says the nurses there are very gentle when they wipe her butt. And I mean she actually said those exact words. She has no filter at all anymore.”
“She sounds fun.”
“That’s one way to put it. She’s gotten mean in her old age too, but now her memory isn’t what it used to be.” He frowns. “Though she always hits on Archer at family gatherings. It’s disturbing but hilarious at the same time.”
“That would be awkward, but I’d be laughing in the background for sure. I only have one grandparent left, and mine has become quite unfiltered too. I hope I have her spunk when I’m in my eighties.”
The oven timer goes off, and I take the chicken out. It’s done now, and I let it cool in the pan for a few minutes before cutting into it and dishing it up. Dad always insisted that’s one of the most important things to keep the flavoring at its best.
I dish up the food and we sit at the table. My heart lurches in my chest when I look at Dean. He’s so handsome, and it’s so easy to sit here and talk to him. We talk and laugh throughout dinner, and we take dessert into the living room, along with the bottle of wine.
Sitting close together on the couch, we search through Netflix, finding something to watch, though I don’t think either of us are too interested in anything on TV.
“Can I find a live cam of a beach somewhere?”
“And pretend we’re back in Miami?”
“Yes. I miss the sun.”
“Me too.” Dean puts his arm around me, pulling me to him. I lie back, stretching my legs out. “Though I did see the high on Monday is fifty-three. Followed by snow on Tuesday.”
“Winter lasts a year in the Midwest.”
“It feels like it.” I rest my head back against his chest. “What about this? Have you seen it?” I ask, highlighting a popular scary show.
“I haven’t, but Quinn and Scarlet are obsessed with it.”
“I’ve only made it through one episode.”
“Too scared?” Dean teases.
“Hah. No, I had a list of other shows to watch, and I’m weird and rewatch the same things over and over.”
“You know what you like. There’s nothing weird about that.” He slips his arm under mine, fingers resting right at the hem of my shirt. I dressed up without being obvious, wearing my favorite jeans and tight black top.
We watch a few minutes of the show, snuggled up together. Then Dean sits up a bit and pulls me to him. I move onto his lap, arms locking around his neck. His eyes meet mine, and my emotions burn inside my chest.
It hits me that this is my last chance to pull away, to break his gaze and move out of his arms…which feel so fucking good around me. Dean gathers my hair in his hand, moving it over my shoulder.
If he kisses me, I’m done for. There’s no way I can resist what’s to come—which will be me, multiple times. But more importantly, I don’t want to resist him.
And tonight…tonight I’m not going to.Chapter 30Rory“Morning,” Dean mumbles, voice thick with sleep. Weak sunlight comes in through the window, illuminating the room in a muted gray glow. He’s had his arm around me all night, and waking up in his embrace is everything. He moves closer, spooning his body against mine. “I’m liking the heated blanket more than I thought I would.”
“Told you it’s nice,” I say, eyes still shut. We’re both naked and my bed has never felt more comfortable than it does with Dean next to me. He has to get up and go to work, but right now I’m not ready to let him go.