For the rest of the meal, Dylan and Justin talk hockey, and when I’m done, I get up and start cleaning the kitchen. “Where is your vacuum?” I ask Justin, and he looks at me. “What?”
“You’re not cleaning the house,” he says almost as if I kicked him.
“I’m just going to pass the vacuum and maybe do the mopping,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“The woman comes Monday and Friday,” he says, and I look at him.
“What woman?” I ask him
“Cristine,” he says. “Nice lady. She also does the laundry, and she buys the food.”
“You have someone who does your laundry?” I ask him, although I don’t know why I’m surprised.
“No,” he says. “We have someone who does our laundry.”
“Oh, no, buster,” I say. “We do not. I do my own laundry, and I’ll do yours, too.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, and whereas before, it made my stomach flutter, now I put my hands on my hips.
“Oh, no, don’t you sweetheart me. If you want me to stay here, I will do the cleaning and the laundry.” He glares at me. “And the cooking.”
“Dylan, are you done?” Justin turns to him, and Dylan brushes his hands together. “Wash your hands.”
“Okay, Justin,” he says, getting off the stool and bringing his plate to the sink. “Can we watch a short movie?”
“Sure,” I answer him, and he looks at Justin.
“You can choose.” He smiles at him, and Justin smirks at first and then totally smiles. Dylan walks away, and Justin watches him, then turns to me.
“You are not cleaning my house nor are you doing my laundry,” he says, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“Fine. I won’t clean your house or do your laundry. But I will clean up after myself and my son in your house.” I point at him. “And I’ll do my laundry.” I smirk now. “And if yours happen to fall in at the same time”—I raise my hands—“oh well.” He glares at me. “I can’t give you anything for having me and Dylan stay here. I can’t even pay for the clothes you bought.”
“I don’t want you to give me anything,” he says softly. “Just being here is all you need to give me.”
“Can you just let me give you the only thing I can?” I ask. “You don’t have to cancel your cleaning lady but let me just tidy things up if I can.”
He put his hands on his hips and huffs out. “Fine, but no vacuuming or mopping.”
I throw my hands up. “There is nothing left.”
He just shrugs. “Well, then you can just relax and come and watch a show with us.” He walks around the counter and kisses me. “Now let’s go.” He grabs my hand, and our fingers link together, and he kisses the tips of my fingers.
We walk to the back room, and I sit on the couch, curling my feet under me. Dylan comes to cuddle into my side. Justin gets on the other side of me, putting his arm around me and pulling us into him. We watch two episodes of a baking show, and when it’s time for bed, Dylan is already half out of it. He kisses us both good night and slips into bed.
“Tomorrow,” he says when he grabs my hand and we walk into his bedroom, “you can take the SUV to work, and I’ll take the car.” He walks over to what is now his side of the bed and pulls the covers back. “Get into bed, sweetheart.” He smirks at me. “Gotta get back in the zone.” I shake my head and go to the bed, and in fifteen minutes, my top is off, and we are lost in each other. We kiss until we are breathless, and I fall asleep again in his arms.
The morning routine feels like we’ve been doing this since the beginning, except when he slips out of bed at four to go work out and then comes back to shower and wakes me with kisses.
Nighttime comes with me usually getting there before them and starting to cook, which I love. Then sitting down and telling each other about our days. It may be just a little thing, but it’s everything.
After I clean up, we end up in the pool where we stay way later than we should. We create our own get to know you game, each one of us asking the other one what do you love more.
On Wednesday, I walk into work with a smile on my face that doesn’t leave me the whole day, and when Cheryl comes in, she comments on how happy I look. “You’ve got that look,” she says right before she walks out the door, and over her shoulder, she finishes her sentence. “The look of love. Have a great night.” She waves her fingers in the air, and I sit here at my desk stunned. I just watch the door that she walked out of, and I’m not sure I heard her right. I can’t have the look of love. I get up from my desk and go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. The circles under my eyes are almost not there, my nose is a bit red from the sun because we’ve been in the pool since Sunday. Little tiny freckles are coming out on my cheeks. My hair is shiny, and it’s also curled a little. I’m wearing a new blush pink T-shirt with white jeans and brown sandals. I touch my cheek, and I don’t feel any different, but it’s there, it’s in my eyes. I put my hand to my stomach, and I suddenly feel sick.
“Am I in love?” I ask the mirror, and I don’t know why I’m surprised when it doesn’t answer me back. I knew I liked him; well, I knew I liked him a lot. I walk out of the bathroom and grab my purse to leave, and that night, he just looks at me, and when Dylan goes to bed, he stands in front of the bed.
“Sweetheart,” he says my name, and I look up. I’m wearing another bedtime outfit. This one is shorts and a loose tank top. “Look at me.”
“What?” I say, trying not to give him anything.
“What’s going on with you?” he asks, and he stands there in his shorts that he always wears low on the hips, and I have the sudden urge to bite him. “You were quiet all night even in the pool.”
“Nothing,” I say, avoiding his eyes and slipping under the covers.
“Are you nervous that my parents are coming?” he asks, and I nod my head.
“Yes,” I lie, hoping to throw him off.
“It’s going to be fine,” he says, coming to me. I also didn’t tell him that I plan on going back to my house tomorrow. “By the way, I need your key.”
“The key?” I ask him, confused.
“To your apartment,” he says, and I look at him, blinking. “I have a crew going in this weekend to patch up all the holes.”
“But,” I start to say, “I was going to stay there.”
“Yeah,” he says, getting into bed. “And why did you think you would stay there?” He turns to me.
“Well, your family is coming, and …” I start to say, and he pulls me to him, and my arms automatically go around him.
“And?” he says, leaning down and kissing my lips.
“And I was giving you some space with your family,” I say.
“Well, it’s a good thing that you won’t be able to get into your place until the following week,” he says with a smirk, and I have to wonder if he knew all along that I would try to make a run for it.
Chapter Thirty-One