Page 64 of Call You Mine
“You know I hate that nickname,” he warns, but the small smirk gives him away. He takes another step closer to me, but his proximity doesn’t intimidate me—it makes me want to see how far I can push him.
I remember him and Jack talking one time about how much Anderson hated when the guys at work called him “sunshine”, and it’s something I’ve kept in the back of my mind, knowing it might come in handy.
“Andyouknow that this,” I gesture between the two of us, “is just for show.”
“Never said it wasn’t.”
I let out a dry chuckle, but it dies quickly. “So, while I appreciate your concern,” I remind him—and myself—that we can’t risk blurring more lines than we already have. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
I expect his cheeks to heat, to see him blush in that addicting way he does.
Instead, he takes a step toward me, his caramel eyes almost black in the low light of the entryway. His face is just inches from mine, and it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room.
I can’t help the way my eyes drop to his lips, just for a breath.
“Baby, you and I both know there’s nothing fake about how well I know how totakecareof you.”
My lips part, and I’m left speechless, unable to remember how to string words together as my mind floods with all the times Anderson hastaken careof me over these last eight months. And, by the way he’s looking at me, he knows exactly where my mind has gone.
He leans in a little closer, so close that I can feel his breath against my lips.
His tongue slides against his bottom lip, and my eyes track the movement, my body begging to be closer to his—to feel his hands tighten around me, his body pressed against mine. His whispered, heated words of encouragement in my ears.
I look at his lips as if I’m trying to commit them to memory.
As if I don’t already know the exact shape of them, the way they feel against mine, the softness of them against my skin.
All it would take is the lift of my chin, and I’d feel them against mine.
“You guys don’t have to go hide by the door and whisper!” Georgie yells from the living room, “I know you’re kissing goodbye!”
And damn, am I fucked.
Because I fuckingwish.
CHAPTER 20
ANDERSON
Jackand I are finishing up cleaning the kitchen while Rumi, Ava, and Emerson move from the dining table to the living room.
The three of them each take a seat on the couch while Georgie sits cross-legged on the floor, settled on Evee’s playmat as the toddler waddles around, bringing Georgie different toys and stuffed animals. Her little feet are covered by her footie pajamas that Georgie helped Rumi get her into just after dinner, and her brown curly hair is wet from her bath and brushed back out of her face.
“You’re so good with her, George,” I hear Ava say as I clear the dining table.
“Does it remind you of when Georgie was that age?” Rumi asks, and I find myself moving slowly as if it’ll help me hear more of the conversation happening just a room over.
“A little bit,” Ava answers after a moment, and I can picture the way her lips move to one side and then the other as she thinks about saying more.
I’ve noticed she does it when she’s asked a question, as if she’s considering every possible outcome or reaction someonemay have to what she shares. Always careful not to say too much and just enough.
Emerson’s voice chimes. “What’s the age gap between you and Georgie?”
“Fifteen years,” two voices say at the same time, and I turn over my shoulder from where I stand at the sink, seeing Georgie smiling up at where Ava sits on the couch. I wish I could see Ava’s face, aching to see the smile I know she’s returning. Ava goes on to explain how she was a sophomore in high school when Georgie was born, just before Georgie calls Ava old because she’s “two years away from being thirty”.
Ava and I arrived here together, and if it weren’t for Georgie, I’m sure Rumi or Emerson would have said something about it.
I could see the way Rumi’s eyes widened and the look the two of them exchanged when we walked into the kitchen and said hi to her and Jack.
