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Irrevocable (Evan Arden 5)

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“Maybe next time.” We both laugh.

“Look,” Bastian says, “I’m out with Raine and some friends of hers from work. She’s gonna start looking for me if I don’t get back in there.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “We can talk some more another time.”

“Yeah. I think that would be good.”

“Later, then.”

“Later.”

I disconnect the call, feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Bastian knows all about it now, and I’ve managed to kill some time. I toss the phone onto the counter and head off to take a shower. Afterwards, I rearrange shit in the kitchen and refold all my clothes. It’s two in the morning, the bars are closed, and I have nothing to do. With my head full of Zach and Bastian, I go back to staring at the ceiling until the sun brightens the windows.

*****

“I still can’t believe you actually changed apartments.”

I just shrug like it’s no big deal. It wasn’t, but I can tell from Alina’s expression that she’s pleased, and that definitely counts for something.

“I didn’t know what all you’d be bringing,” I say, “so I figured it would be best to make sure there was room.”

“You went to a lot of trouble.” Alina steps up and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” I watch her backside as she carries a small suitcase into her room.

“I doubt this bed will get much use!” she yells.

“Hope not!” I yell back. “Hey, I bought actual food, too!”

“Fabulous!”

Alina gets settled in while I start making one of Lele’s pasta sauce recipes. If I’m going to make an impression, it’s going to be a good one. The smell of basil and oregano has filled the kitchen by the time Alina finishes unpacking.

“That smells incredible.”

“Old family secret,” I say with a wink.

“Hmm…will you have to kill me if I figure it out?”

I glance over to her, surprised she’d make such a joke, but she’s smiling, so I smile back.

“Something like that.”

“I’ll set the table.”

We eat. We chat about nothing in particular. We do the dishes, and we go to bed. I consider bringing up the picture about a hundred times during the course of the evening, but I don’t. I want to make sure the timing is right. I don’t want to push my luck. I hold her and slowly fuck her, taking my time and making sure she’s well satisfied before I enjoy my own release. When we’re done, I hold on to her and inhale the sweet scent of lavender.

The next day is Sunday, and we sleep in.

It’s not like I keep any kind of regular work hours—quite the contrary—but there must be some Catholic boy thing left inside of me that’s always reserved Sundays for relaxing and doing nothing. Alina seems to be of a similar mindset and isn’t bothered by my lack of motivation. We discuss the possibility of going out later in the week but spend the morning and afternoon just watching romantic comedies on Netflix and eating leftover pasta.

She’s been here a full twenty-four hours, and I can’t wait any longer.

Excusing myself for a moment, I go into the bedroom and get the pictures. I stare at them for a moment before returning to the couch. I place the picture of Zach and me together on the coffee table in front of her and sit back as she picks it up and looks at it. She presses her lips together, and there’s a tear in the corner of her eye.

There is no surprise in her expression. This isn’t the first time she’s seen the picture.

“Where did you find this?” she asks quietly.



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