Page 69 of Wicked Design
She chewed her thumb, still too reluctant to call him on his earlier behavior. “It’s just that… You, more than anyone, should know being physically present doesn’t mean people are close emotionally.”
“Why me more than anyone?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it.”
“After the fact?” He returned to her. “Tell me. I want to know.”
“Your parents and you lived in the same house but you weren’t close, okay?”
“Are you actually comparing you and me to me and my folks?”
“I don’t want things to go sour between us.” She stroked a bullet-hole tat on his arm. “We’ve barely started. Stuff was good. We had fun. We shared things that are important to us. Art. Our careers. Our dreams and fear about failure. I want that back.”
“Oh, baby.” He gathered her in his arms. “Nothing’s changed. Did my arriving late tonight start this? If it did, I’m sorry for screwing up.”
She hugged him. “You didn’t do it deliberately.”
“God no.” He rubbed her back. “Admittedly, I’m clueless for not having considered the hour or that you’d be worried something happened to me. Tell you what. Next time I do anything you don’t like, kick me in the balls. I guarantee that will get my attention fast.”
She laughed. “And put you out of commission when it comes to satisfying me? No freaking way.” She snuggled against him. “Let’s make love until we have to go back to work tomorrow.”
“Wish we could play hooky and take the entire day off.”
“We could make the most of the time we have.”
He carried her to the bed. Clothes flew. Limbs entwined. Mouths joined. They stared longingly, smiled broadly, and enjoyed each other to exhaustion.
Sometime during the early morning Clover woke. Alone again.
Van Gogh had left a note on her table.
Had an early appt.
Will see u 2nite at 10:45
We’ll order pizza.
Fifteen minutes before he should have arrived that evening, he called to cancel.
