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“Yes.” My heart melts. It’s always Mom, or lately, he thinks it’s funny to call me Jillien.
“Are you doing something good and fun?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you staying in Philly because Grandpa made you feel guilty or something.”
“First of all, that’s my worry, not yours. And second, I won’t be seeing him again this trip. I’m just enjoying being home.”
“Chicago is home.”
“You know what I mean. You’re sounding a bit moody. Go eat something. I love you, Baby Bear.”
“I love you, too, Mama Bear.” I hang up the phone, tearing up a little. And then I remember Fletch. I bound up the stairs and into his room. He pushes his glasses back up his nose. He’s been wearing contacts. His glasses are tortoiseshell and horn-rimmed. They seem like a throwback to glasses we wore in high school and they’re downright sexy. I guess everything old is new again.
I stand in the doorframe. “Whatcha doing?”
“Reading.” He doesn’t look up. I remove my pants and throw them at him. He shuffles them on the floor. “Everything alright?” He inquires in a strange tone of voice.
“Yes. And with you?”
He says, “Cool. I’m cool.”
“Liar.” He looks up and realizes I’m naked from the waist down. He grins at the view and lifts the comforter as an invitation.
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
I leap into bed and snuggle on his chest, throwing my leg across his. “Tell me.”
“His voice threw me.”
“Sorry, I should have had the ringer off.”
“No you shouldn’t. Your kid needed you, and he should be able to reach you.”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. You’re still here, without pants, I might add, and we can resume activities. But first you have to share him with me a little.” Interesting. “I don’t want to be kept on the outside of your world. Did you tell him where you are?”
“I’m staying at a friend’s house, having a really good time. He was worried my dad guilted me into staying in Philly longer, and I told him that wasn’t the case.” He turns on his side, and I sit up a little to be face to face with him. He says nothing but kisses me. I remove his glasses, then lean over him to place them on the nightstand.
“Also, I’m going to fucking kill Christopher.”
“Why?”
“His girlfriend spent the night and it freaked Ethan out.” I don’t want to tell Fletch about Ethan’s plans to come home early.
“Is that why I’m a secret?”
“You’re not a secret, just not sure yet.”
“Of me?” he says quietly.
“No! Of how to tell him. And we have got to stop questioning each other like this. I mean, we’re heavy into day three of our relationship now—I was thinking of telling him on our five-day anniversary.”
And with one swift move, he’s on top of me. Kissing me, moving down my body, pushing up my T-shirt to get to my breasts. “Now, where was I?” I spread wide in anticipation. He kisses my stomach, then stops. He comes back up to face me with a puzzled expression.
“Was this a small taste?”
