Page 88 of Don't Tell

"I know."

"Suzanne."

"I know that too."

He says other things. He says them low into my hair, into my temple, into the place where the locket lies against my collarbone. I let him.

I'm close.

I'm close enough to it that I can feel it sitting at the bottom of my throat the way a thing sits when it has been waiting for the right second.

Tonight is not the right second.

Tonight is for sleeping.

I sleep.

21.Cade

The sky outside is a vibrant orange, and I'm setting the table.

She has been at it for an hour, preparing fresh bread in a bowl, a single candle lit, a linen napkin folded in a way I don't have a word for. She is in a dress — soft, dark, and green that catches the light when she moves.

I cross the kitchen and put my hand on her waist from behind. I kiss the side of her neck.

She leans back into me.

"What are you doing?"

"Distracting you."

"I have three more things to do."

"They can wait."

"You are impossible."

I turn her around and kiss her properly. Her hand comes up to my jaw. The kitchen disappears for a long second.

"We can finish this tonight after dinner."

"Or we can do this now and later too."

The kiss deepens. Somebody has to pull back. She does, eventually. She taps me once on the hip.

"Finish up." She swats me.

I go.

The shower is supposed to be five minutes. She comes in three. The shower turns into something neither of us planned, and we barely make it out in time to dress. I’m at the bedroom mirror, finishing the second cuff of a shirt I picked because she likes the way it sits at the wrist when the doorbell rings.

She laughs from the foyer.

"I've got it."

I hear her bare feet on the hardwood.

I straighten the collar and walk out of the bedroom.