Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“Yeah, well, what’s the use of storing useless information in your brain if you never use it?”
I smiled over at him.
“But it’s funny, ya know,” he mused. “I doubt I could tell you what my last boyfriend liked on his hamburger, but if you ask me to tell you what you like, I’ll say ketchup, mustard, and pickles, no onions, extra cheese.”
“And you would be right.” I chuckled, which was pretty good considering my heart was in my throat.
His gaze was unwavering, and I would have glanced away if I could have. But looking at Dixon Bain had always been my pleasure, and nothing had changed.
“Hey,” he began, breaking the spell. “Do you remember when I used to work those double shifts at Boondocks and I’d come home and you’d cook me dinner?”
“Uh-huh,” I replied, remembering the bar and grill close to campus that he’d worked at all through college. I had gone the copy shop route; he’d been a waiter.
“I had to work to show my dad I was serious about my own education.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But when I’d get home, we’d screw around and you’d rub my back and I’d fall asleep.”
“I remember,” I barely got out.
“I used to wake up, and you’d be asleep next to me, and… I always loved that.”
“I know you’ve spent the night with other people since me.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only person I’ve ever lived with.”
“Really?” I was surprised.
“Yeah, really.” He sounded defensive.
“Interesting.”
“Why’s that?”
My eyes flicked over to him. “Because it’s something grownups do, Dix.”
He grunted.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just… I can’t get over seeing you. It’s so weird.”
At least I wasn’t the only one.
“Weird and expected at the same time.”
“Expected?” That made no sense.
“Well, yeah. I always figured I’d see you again.”
“You did?”
“Sure, that’s why I wasn’t all racked up when I left, ya know? It never felt like forever.”
“It did to me. I didn’t realize you were actually going to go until you kissed me that last time and walked out the front door.”
He was staring at me, studying my face.
I smiled wide. “Jesus, Dix, I was so crazy about you I thought we’d be adopting kids together and have a house in the suburbs. I had no idea about anything.”
He got off the bed, crossed the room, and brought back one of the ugly regurgitated-yellow hospital chairs to sit in.
“You’re getting comfortable,” I teased him, “you planning to stay all day?”
“Yep. I talked to your doctor. He said you could go home tomorrow. I already stocked the fridge and––”
“What?” I nearly choked on a piece of chicken.
“What?” He appeared confused.
Home?
“Evan?”
“Home?” I finally got the word out.
He squinted at me. “I missed something.”
“You’re taking me home?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, making a show of glancing around the room. “I don’t see anybody else waiting to do it.”
“Dixon, you––”
“I took your keys and your wallet and went to your place. I like your apartment. It’s small, but that’s to be expected on your salary. You own it?”
I was still stuck on the first thing he said. “On my salary?” I was indignant.
“Pull the stick out of your ass, Evan. We both know you don’t make shit. You don’t have to be a dick about it. You can fit three of your place into my loft in Manhattan.”
“Okay.” I put down my fork. “I will have you know that that apartment is in a historic building and––”
“Yeah, I already knew it was small. But I don’t care if you own it. Either way it can be sold, whatever… let’s just worry about tomorrow. Now, I already got––”
“What are you talking about?” I yelled.
His scowl was dark. “Tomorrow when I take you home, I need to make sure that your place is stocked until you’re okay enough to fly to New York with me for Christmas.”
“You hate Christmas!” Which was not what I meant to say, but it was what came out.
“Yes, I do,” he admitted, reaching for my hand, which, for whatever reason, I let him have. It was an automatic response: if Dixon wanted something, I gave it to him. It was ingrained deep inside me, too deep to try and reason with. “And I hate it for other reasons now, but back when we were in school, it was because I couldn’t have you and my family together.”
“It was?”
“Yeah. When I was with you, I missed my family, and when I was with my family, I missed you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I never wanted you to have to choose.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking, maybe if I take you with me to New York this year, then everything will be different.” He sighed deeply. “Maybe this year I’ll finally have everything I ever wanted.”
My brain was going to explode. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You. Me. The Big Apple. I think that’s my ticket to happiness.”
He had lost his mind in the last ten years, and apparently no one had noticed.