Page 40 of Hold You Close
* * *
Idiot. But I’m grinning.
* * *
Me: I wouldn’t have to if you were a grown up all the time.
Ian: Growing up is overrated.
Me: Clearly.
Ian: Heading to the back room where I have no service. But I have one question, do you sleep naked?
* * *
Oh my God. He’s so ridiculous.
* * *
Me: You’ll never know.
* * *
Ian has a first-floor laundry room off the hallway between his bedroom and the kitchen, and I grab an empty basket from it and head upstairs, still smiling from our text exchange. In Morgan’s room, it’s just as she says—clothes are everywhere, and I can hardly tell what’s dirty and what’s clean. I guess as well as I can, sticking some things in the basket and folding the rest, placing things in drawers. In Ruby’s room, I find her nightgown and school clothes on the floor, and add them to the basket.
Christopher’s room already smells like a teenage boy, and I’m a little leery about invading his privacy, so I skip it, deciding I’ll simply stick an empty basket in his room and let him fill it.
Back in the laundry room, I fill the washer and turn it on before joining Ruby at the table.
“What are you making?” I ask as she sprinkles glitter glue on her picture.
“A princess. It’s for Uncle Ian,” she tells me. “He can take it to work.”
I smile, imagining him hanging up the glittery pink artwork in his office. “That’s so nice of you. He’s going to love it.”
My phone has another missed text.
* * *
Ian: I’m pretty sure I already know, but can’t wait to see if I’m right.
* * *
My stomach flutters thinking about the two of us in any bed again. I shut it down, though. That’s a thought I don’t need to entertain.
Ian is bad for my heart.
Nine
London
Christopher comes in around seven and gobbles up dinner like he hasn’t eaten in days. After a second helping, he heads upstairs to shower without saying much. I’m concerned about him, but I don’t want to push. He doesn’t come back downstairs, and when I take Ruby up to bed at eight and then Morgan at nine-thirty, he’s still in his room with the door shut. After debating whether or not I should just leave him be for now, I decide to knock.
“Christopher?”
“Yeah?” His voice is muffled through the closed door.
“Everything okay?”
