Page 18 of Let the Light Shine Through

Climbing the stairs leading to my room, I change from my wet shorts and boxer briefs into a pair of gray joggers sans underwear. I sleep naked, so this is already too much clothing but…propriety and all that.

I grab a plain white tee and a pair of athletic shorts—also sans underwear—for her before heading back down.

After an embarrassing amount of time lingering outside the bathroom, I finally knock and my plan to leave the outfit by the door flies out the window with most, if not all, of my rational thought when she says, “Come in.”

On an exhale, I push open the door, imagining Gia in some sexy pose, waiting to pounce. What I don’t expect to find is a mountain of bubbles covering her body as she chills in the filled tub, her head tilted back with her arms resting on the lip while holding a bottle of wine.

Umm.

How’d she get wine in here? Better yet, who the fuck bought it?

Draped across the shower rod, her wet clothes continuously drip down on to the bubbles below, popping them by the dozens.

She cracks an eye and says, “Hi.”

“Hi.” I cover a cough by pointing to the quickly disappearing bubbles. “Where did you find those?”

She glances at the counter and I busy myself by picking up the bottle, studying it very intently to keep my eyes from wandering. There’s no expiration date, but there is a heavy ring of crusty build-up around the cap. I make the mistake of smelling it, my nose stinging from the overwhelming sea breeze freesia scent.

Gia’s laughter fills the cramped bathroom. “Hey, it’s better than clams.”

My eyes go wide as the bottle slips from my hold, falling to the floor with a loud crack. Well, that’s the end of that. Thank God.

“Don’t act like you didn’t smell it.”

I mean, I did, but why was it there?

“Clams?”

“My dad owns a pizza shop,” she says, setting the wine bottle on the edge to slide her body farther down in the tub. “I put in a shift before coming here.”

That scenario sounds infinitely better than anything I’d come up with on my own so far.

Fully submerged, save for her head, she asks, “For me?” and I realize I’m clutching the clothes I brought down for her in my other hand.

I give her a slow nod, working to keep my eyes on hers. Nothing of hers is showing, but still, they’re distracting—the bubbles. Because I know what they’re hiding.

I don’t know…but I’d like to.

“Unless you had other plans?” Like, I don’t know, staying naked.

“That’s not happening.” She says it the exact same way she did about love—the romantic kind—but then her hands clap together loudly, sending clusters of bubbles airborne, and she watches them float above her head for a minute.

I follow her gaze, losing myself in the clouds, too.

“Roz.” Gia’s voice snaps me out of the bubble-filled fantasy. “Towel?”

With rigid fingers, I grab a towel from under the sink, stealing a peek at the top of Gia’s shoulder as I hand it to her. There’s a small circular scar that looks like a tiny burn, and even though she’s careful to keep most of herself covered by the water, I still catch the mark. How’d she get it? Even in the pool, she chose to keep her baseball jersey on. She could’ve easily taken it off and swam in her sports bra, but she refused every time anyone suggested it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But now…now I’m wondering.

I’m quick to recover, meeting her eyes again to ask, “Need anything else?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Here.” I place the box of cannoli in her open palms, then drop down next to her on the couch. She’s drowning in my shirt and shorts but pulls them off as if they’re her own. Hell, she probably has the same outfit at home.

When she doesn’t respond, I look over, finding her frowning at the package.