Page 100 of Challenge Me

“You won’t,” he assured me. “We’ll work it out civilly. Trust me.”

I hummed my acknowledgement, not sure I believed him.

“Besides, she’s clearly just as attached to you,” he went on.

“She’s warming up.”

“More than that. You don’t really know her well, but she doesn’t act like that with people.”

“She loves Trav and Roman,” I pointed out.

“But she’s never hugged them.”

It was hard not to feel proud when I thought about it. Growing serious, I stroked my jaw. “Am I allowed to ask something?”

“You’re always allowed.”

“It’s about Mal.” When he gestured for me to continue, I went on cautiously. “Does she have autism?”

His lips rolled inward, then he snagged the lower one with his teeth. After a second, he released it. “She does, yeah. But don’t start treating her like she’s fragile or—”

“I would never. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just that she notices when people don’t treat her like other people, and she hates it more than anything.”

“She experiences the world a little differently; that’s all.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sounding relieved.

“I didn’t mean to draw attention to it. Honestly, I sort of thought it early on, but especially after what happened with Clara.”

“She loves to be affectionate, but only if she’s expecting it. I like to give her a chance to initiate if she feels like it.”

“Does she do that with anyone else?”

“Only me and Avery.” He ran his finger around the rim of the glass. “Can I drink the rest of this now?”

Knocking his hand away, I gave him a pointed look. “One, that defeats the purpose. Two, it’s seven in the morning.”

“You started it.” When I made a face, he laughed but grabbed me and pulled me closer. His arm snaked around my waist, and his lips pressed to my temple. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because I was supposed to take you out and never got to. It may not be as nice as the dinner I was planning, but . . .” He shrugged.

“I don’t need nice things.”

“What’s your perfect date?”

“Perfect’s a stretch.” My fingers tapped against his ribs absently. “I don’t know. Something simple. A dive bar, good music, bad lighting, decent whiskey, and no awkward silences. Silence is fine,” I added. “But only the contented kind.”

“So . . .” His lips shifted to the side as he considered something. He was probably trying to plan it all out. It would be regimented, with every piece lined up neatly, just like Mal did with her cars.

Letting me go, he walked around me. I angled myself so I could watch him as he opened the fridge. He set the egg tray on the island, then the jug of milk.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

As he grabbed flour from the cabinet, he flashed me a smile. “Making breakfast and eating in.”