“What?” I ask.
“You called me ‘honey.’?”
“I call everyone ‘honey,’?” I lie.
He frowns, skeptical. “You absolutely don’t strike me as the kind of person to call everyone ‘honey.’?”
I kiss his chin. “Well, don’t read too much into it. Remember, two weeks only.”
Lifting his hand, he presses it to my neck, threading his fingers into my hair. Against the sun-warmed skin of my cheek, his palm is cool. He leans forward, salty and wet, and brings his mouth to mine.
Minutes later—many, many minutes later—when we are wrinkled from water and tight with need, we swim back to shore and fall asleep on our towels under the umbrella, beneath the bright, clear blue sky, scores of miles away from stress or responsibility or the eyes of anybody who might want to find us.
Nine
It’s clear Eden has no idea what to do with her face when I walk into the apartment with Alexander Kim only two steps behind me. Her brown eyes go wide and then squeeze shut, and then she does the very last thing I would ever expect brassy, battle-ready Eden Enger to do. She turns and just… walks away.
I burst out laughing. “Eden!”
“I can’t,” she calls out over her shoulder.
“Get back here!” I look at Alec, grinning in amused apology, and pull him inside before chasing her down the hall.
Hooking a hand around her forearm, I turn her to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes wild. “George,” she whisper-hisses. “You should have called to tell me that you were bringing—” She points helplessly down the hall. “That!”
“It’s Wednesday! I assumed you were working! I’m sorry!”
“People get life in prison for lesser offenses.”
I bend, bringing her knuckles to my lips and half laughing against them, half kissing them. “I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I expected him to realize he couldn’t come over and bail. I didn’t want to tell you and send you into a cleaning frenzy.”
“Alexander Kim is in our apartment,” she says, “and I’m unshowered, wearing a Lakers T-shirt and old jeans. The state of our perpetually tidy living room is the least of my worries.”
“You look adorable.” She really does. Thick black hair in a messy bun, dark eyes glimmering. Everyone who meets Eden loves her because she is so unapologetically herself. “Come on. We’re sweaty and tired and sandy anyway.” I make puppy eyes at her. “And he’s so sweet. Don’t be uncomfortable. Think of him as Alec and maybe that will help?”
She presses her fingertips to her lips like it’s hitting her all over again who’s in her living room. “I swear there was still a part of me that thought you were making shit up and it wasn’t him.”
“I know you did.”
Pointing down the hall, she whispers, “But he’s right there, Gigi.”
“He’s gonna hang out, if that’s okay?” I tilt my head and smile winningly at her. “Come on. Hang out with us?”
I return to the living room with Eden trailing behind me. Alec stands there in the black jeans he put on before we drove home, with his hands placidly tucked in his pockets, looking around. I am grateful that Eden and I are both relative neat freaks and keep the apartment clean, but even so, it’s hard to not see the space through his eyes.
It’s small, furnished with a random assortment of furniture we’ve both collected over the years. A yellow sofa. Big comfy blue chair. Low coffee table we decorated with tiles ourselves a few weeks before my UK trip. The walls are dotted with a hodgepodge collection of paintings by local artists and framed photos of our families and ourselves. I’m sure Alec’s place in London could eat our little apartment for a snack. I wonder what he thinks while looking at this space, if he senses what’s missing, feels the ghosts of the beloved art and framed photos from college and after, ones we put away in boxes and agreed didn’t deserve to grace these walls.
“Eden, this is Alec.”
He turns and smiles his real smile—the one that triggers the instinctive smile in response, even through a television screen. I watch her try to keep her composure together when his dimples make a prominent cameo.
She essentially has to frown to keep her face from cracking wide open. Eden narrows her eyes, humming vaguely. “Alex, is it?”
“Stop it.” I smack her arm, and beside me, Alec bursts out laughing. “Alec, this is my roommate, Eden.”
“It’s great to meet you.” He reaches out to shake her hand. “Gigi has said wonderful things.”
“He’s lying,” I say, grinning at the two of them. “I told him you’re a hell beast.”