Page 264 of Darling Venom
“You distracted me.” Flipping onto his side, he walked his fingers down my leg and traced lazy circles on my inner thigh, staring past me. “You surrounded my bed with them like a prayer circle.”
“I have a habit of being thorough.”
“Are they the same?”
“Yeah.” I paused. “It’s a passage from Darling Venom.”
His fingertips stilled. “Charlie.”
I couldn’t gauge his tone. I knew what it wasn’t—guttural, warning, broken. But that didn’t get me very far.
“Are you mad?”
“I’m never mad at you, Charlie.”
It rolled off his tongue in a whisper.
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”
He didn’t answer. Just kissed my nose, strode to the en-suite bathroom, and switched the sink on. I followed, accepting the wet napkin he handed me.
We cleaned ourselves and straightened our clothes. His arms traveled to the vanity, trapping me against it. A tie dangled around his neck like a noose.
I took in the tufts of hair sticking out in different directions. “Long day?”
“Better now.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“IVF failed on a patient. Again. She turns forty-nine next week. Her reproductive endocrinologist advised her to stop. She came to me for a second opinion.”
“You’re not a fertility specialist.”
“No, but I’m her gynecologist and an obstetrician that specializes in high-risk pregnancies, so she trusts me.” He tangled his fingers in my hair, lips drifting to my shoulder. “I didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. She shattered in front of me, Charlie. Said she will never forgive herself for not trying sooner.”
“Opportunity lasts a moment. Regret lasts a lifetime. It’s something my mom used to say.”
“You don’t talk about her often.”
“No, but I think about my parents every night.” My hands felt restless. I freed Tate from his half-Windsor and dropped the dotted tie to the tiles. “I lost everything in the fire, so there’s nothing physical to remember them by. All I have is a barrette and what’s in here.” I tapped my temple. “I’m scared that, one day, I’ll forget what they looked like. So, I take the time to replay my favorite memories with them before I sleep.”
His lips ghosted over the spot I’d touched. “You can share the memories with me. Consider me your personal cloud.”
That implied a future together.
It was the first hint of commitment he’d ever given me. Cruel hope scorched me. We’d reached an addictive level of domesticity. I planned on squeezing as much out of him as I could.
Dinner. A date. Promises.
Anything to latch on to.
“Oh, yeah? How’s your memory?”
“What was the question again?”
Laughter bubbled up my throat.
“You’re the one that needs ginkgo.” I followed him back to the room. “I left a copy of Darling Venom on your nightstand.”
