“What?” Colby looked up at me, bright-blue eyes shining with tears. “What do you mean?”
“Only that she was a great judge of character, and although”—I leaned down and cupped her chin—“I’m still horrified that you’re half an adult… you’ve been like a sister to her.”
“And to you too?” Colby asked.
I felt like I’d swallowed something too large, my heart felt too big in my chest, and the room felt too small. “Yeah, me too.”
Lame.
Colby deflated instantly, and I wanted to punch myself.
I’d had one perfect moment to tell her that I was attracted to her, to tell her that amid her chaos and constant need to talk she pulled me, and instead I was pretty sure I’d just called her my fucking sister.
Damn it!
Colby pulled away and changed the subject. “She told me that if anything ever happened to her to burn the box in the closet. At the time I thought she was being dramatic.” Colby picked up what looked like a spreader bar with cuffs attached to it. “Huh, same one from Fifty Shades, nice.”
I rubbed my eyes, hoping to get the vision of Monica and the spreader bar out of my mind. It didn’t work, probably because Colby was still holding it up as if fascinated by the locking mechanisms. “How does this even attach?” And wouldn’t Monica with all her matchmaking ways have just loved that?
I almost laughed.
Instead I watched as Colby threw the contraption around, still unable to figure it out until I said, “Wrists to ankles.” Whoops.
Her eyes lit up with interest. “And how would you know?”
“It’s obvious,” I lied as my cheeks heated. It’s not like I had one, but I wasn’t dumb and I’d been curious back when the movie came out, sue me. “I mean, I am a guy. I know the mechanics of… handcuffs. Wow, this is just getting worse, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I think you should keep talking.” Colby nodded. “But it’s fascinating. Tell me more about mechanics, Rip.”
I shot her a glare. “We can’t donate this. Nobody at the Goodwill wants secondhand sex toys.”
“Can you imagine? Dear old Grandpa walking in and looking for some sturdy handcuffs…” She started to laugh and then wiped a tear from her eyes. “Monica would haunt us for life.”
“Probably.” I wrapped an arm around her. “But at least they left us something to laugh about… there’s been too many tears.”
“So many.” She sniffled. “Sorry for being a wreck.”
I wanted to say sorry for staying too strong, for not crying, for not showing that I was mourning too. Instead I just held Colby close. “You’re not a wreck.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I am.”
“Then you’re a perfect mess… a perfect wreck… let yourself be the masterpiece of chaos.”
“Won’t that piss you off?”
“Me?” I hugged her tighter. “Nah, I think I’m beginning to think that the truly beautiful things in this world aren’t perfect. I don’t want perfect.”
“Y-you don’t?”
“No,” I said honestly. “I don’t.”
“Anyway,” she sighed. “Should we just keep it or bury it? The last thing we need is anyone finding it and thinking it’s, you know…”
My brain went in all the wrong directions.
“Let’s just keep the box for now,” I said when I’d found my voice.
“Wait, to use for later?” Her cheeks pinked. “I mean, not us, no, not that, I mean, like, why would we keep them?”