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Her fingers remain over mine for a moment where my palm rests against the curve of her hip. “I’m not ready for everything,” she says.

“What does everything mean?”

She smiles slightly. “More than this.”

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.” She presses my hand closer. “Very much.”

I look down at our hands and then back at her. “So do I.”

We stay like this for a while, close enough that my erection still presses lightly against her whenever one of us moves. Rachel finally lets out a breath and steps back.

“I need a minute before I make choices future Rachel might regret.”

“What decisions?”

“That was not an invitation to begin negotiations.”

“I know negotiations.”

“I deeply regret Blair’s influence on your education.”

She kisses me once more before turning toward the table. It is brief, but the warmth of her mouth stays with me.

I sit across from her at the kitchen table while she eats toast. Papers are spread near her elbow, some with numbers I can recognize even though most of the words remain marks I cannot read. She writes something, erases it, then writes another number.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how annoying adulthood can become on a Sunday morning.”

I look at the papers. “Bills?”

“Yes.”

Rachel told me about electricity after I asked why turning on a lamp cost money even though nobody came to the house to collect it. I still think parts of the system are poorly designed.

“You haven’t worked.”

Her pencil stops. “Right. Not since Monday.”

“Because people come to see me.”

“Because people have behaved like lunatics around you.”

“It still costs you money.”

“Yes.” There is no humor in the answer.

I look at the bills again. “Are you worried?”

Rachel takes too long to answer. “A little.”

Before I can decide whether to ask what a little means, my phone rings on the counter.

Rachel glances at the screen. “Mara.”

Chapter Twenty