“Like him, I don’t want to entertain your nonsense.” Mostly because I’m ninety-nine percent sure this is about me.
“You love our nonsense.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Can we cut to the chase? Fletch and I want to head to Silvermoon and check out the hottie.”
“What the fuck is Myles talking about?”
“Burke called me earlier and told me about your friend. We got together to listen to Persy’s show. More specifically, Matilda’s phone calls and your sex and coffee segment. I think it’s adorable what that precious kid is doing for her mom.”
Hesitantly, I agree. “Yes, it is. She cares a lot about Autumn.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“I assume you want to be the guy who swoops Autumn off her feet and—”
“Thank you so much for keeping this conversation between us, Burke,” I grumble.
“I told you I needed more information, and you ditched me. I went to the one person who’d be able to decipher your riddle.”
“What about the other three?”
“I don’t like to leave anyone out.” Teddy’s excuse is laughable.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Burke.”
“Language,” Teddy scolds me.
“Listen. I want to keep things simple between Autumn and me. She and Matilda deserve better than me. Do I want to help and make their lives easier? Yes. Instead of fucking with me, Myles, why don’t you help me get a private tour at the San Diego Zoo this Saturday? Matilda loves animals.”
“What else do you want? A private jet?” Myles asks, sarcastically. The asshole.
“Weren’t you in Vancouver filming a documentary?”
“That was last week. I’m taking a break and then I’m going to Prague. But sure, I can figure out the tour and even lend you my jet,” he offers.
“You might become my favorite.”
“We don’t pick favorites,” Teddy warns me.
“Can this torture be over?”
“Sure, we’ll just support you while you’re in the stage of denial. When you screw up and need something amazing to woo her, I’ll be here with a few ideas to save the day.”
“Why do you assume I’ll screw up?”
“You’re a St. James. We’re not great at relationships, and my six brothers suck at romantic gestures. Archer was the only one who listened to me, but…”
“Archer doesn’t count. He met the love of his life when he was five,” Fletcher protests. “Can we let the poor guy go? He sounds miserable. As I said, this is a bad idea, and I have to go and check out Autumn Wickerton. Burke said she’s pretty hot.”
“Stay away from her,” I warn him. “As for the rest of you, don’t worry about me. I’ll deal with my fuckups later while you stay away from my private life.”
“No can do, amigo,” Burke says. “The last time we let you do whatever the fuck you wanted, things ended up pretty fucked up.”
I walk around the living room and stop in front of the bookcase. I pull out the biography of Brandi Carlyle, Broken Horses. I set it back when I saw The Gambler Wife by Andrew D. Kaufman. I like Russian literature, and Dostoyevsky is one of my favorite authors.
“Are you listening to me?”
I adore my sister. She’s one of the best humans I know in the world, but she’s also annoying.
“Why don’t you worry about yourself? You need more help than I do. At least I try. None of you ever do more than go out on mindless dates or fuck around.”
“I don’t fuck around,” Teddy says defensively.
“No. You go out on mindless dates. See you around, kids.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Autumn
At eleven sharp, I get out of work. While I head toward the underground garage, I check my phone. Zach and Matilda sent me texts and pictures throughout the evening, and he even recorded a video of Matilda preparing her pizza. It seems like they got along pretty well, and though I’m glad they got along, I fear that Matilda might be getting the wrong idea about him. Or maybe I’m the one who is blowing things out of proportion.
The drive home feels longer than usual. I swear I hit all the red lights. Maybe I’m just anxious because I suspect that my child convinced him that her bedtime is midnight. When I arrive at my apartment, Zach is on the couch with a book on his chest and his eyes closed.
Almost tiptoeing, I approach him, lean closer, and press a quick kiss on his cheek. His strong arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me to him.
As I sit on his lap, I place my arms around his shoulders. His cedar scent makes my heart skip a beat. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was resting my eyes,” he says. His voice is huskier than usual. He slants his mouth on mine, kissing me deeply. It’s a hungry kiss. He devours me. Adrenaline wanders through my blood. I didn’t think I wanted him this much. I want him. I long for him. It feels too fast, too soon, but I can’t stop the kiss or the emotions bursting inside my chest.
“Hey,” he whispers. “How was work?”
I relax my head in the crook of his neck. “The usual.”
“Do you have any other word that isn’t ‘the usual?’”
“Probably.”
“Did you eat?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t have time.”
“Though I love having you on my lap, we have to feed you.” He winks at me. “Afterward, I’m going to eat you.”
“Not tonight.”
He nuzzles my hair. “Come on. I promise to make it good for you.”
“You can’t stay.”
He kisses my temple. “I know, baby. I promise I’ll be gone before you’re up.”
“Okay,” I agree, moving away from the comfort of his embrace and heading to the kitchen.
“She prepared you a plate.”
I notice there’s a drawing next to a dish covered with tinfoil.
“A zebra?” I say, picking up the paper. It’s a picture of a zebra and a girl next to a pizza.
“Look on the other side.”
Made with love,
Zach and Matilda.
He smirks. “I adore how much she worries about you.”
“She’s a good kid. What’s up with the zebra?”
“I’m a zebra. It was the only animal that starts with the letter z.”
I shake my head. “There’s zebu, zorse, zonkey.”
“I don’t look like a zebu, and the other two are made up by some corporation that has something against zebras,” he jokes. “What are you?”
“An axolotl. She’s a manatee.”
“She loves animals. We have to take her to the zoo.”
Instead of saying anything, I uncover the plate and stare at my pizza. “Did she put broccoli on my pizza?”
“She said you like greens.”
I scrunch my nose. “Not on my pizza.”
He opens the fridge. “I saved a couple of pieces of pepperoni pizza if you want.”
“Nah, I’ll eat what she prepared.” Then I stare at the chocolate chip cookie next to my not-so-delicious pizza. “I’m pretty sure I said no cookies.”