30. Katie
Katie
My comforter’s bunched up under my chin, and I’m pressed into Michael’s side.
The AC is blasting, brushing cool air over my skin, but I’m warm anyway.
I’m sleepy and a little dazed from the way he has me pulled in to him.
I glance up at him. He’s still asleep, completely unaware of me staring at him.
He’s so fucking beautiful. It almost pisses me off a little, how unfair that is, how someone gets to look like that just existing, sleeping next to me. I drag my eyes over his face anyway, taking what I want from it, because I can. Because he’s here.
I’m taking him to meet my mom today. I already know what I’m walking into. I know the look on her face before she says anything. That split second where she doesn’t know who I am, and she’s trying to cover it. I know the way it feels when it hits, even when I tell myself I’m ready for it. I’m not.
I take in a breath and stare at him instead because this is easier. This is something I get to keep. I never had a dad, never had anyone to fill that space, and now the one person who’s supposed to know me better than anyone barely does half the time.
It’s bullshit.
I shift closer, pressing into him, trying to store it up for later when I need it. Because I will. He groans under his breath, shifting slightly before his eyes open. He inhales, then exhales, and when he looks down at me, his smile is immediate.
“Morning, Doll,” he says.
“Morning.”
“You sleep okay?”
I nod, my fingers brushing lightly against his chest. “Yeah. You’re like a bear. You were wrapped around me all night like I’m yours or something.”
He chuckles at that. “We’ve already established that you are mine.”
“You’re right,” I say.
I sit up, and he moves with me, both of us settling against the headboard. His hand finds my thigh, fingers curling slightly as he looks over at me.
“What’s the plan for today?” he asks.
I swallow, my gaze dropping before I bring it back to him. “I was thinking we could go see my mom earlier. Spend more of the day with her.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” he says, squeezing my thigh gently.
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” he says.
“Okay.”
I slide out of the bed, the comforter falling back as I stand, and he’s right behind me a second later. I don’t even look at him at first. Instead, I move around the room, grabbing what I need, and trying to act normal.
“What do you want me to wear?” he asks, already pulling the covers up, straightening everything as if this is just something he does.
I pause. He’s making my bed. God. Can he stay here? Like, permanently? Is that a thing I can ask for yet, or do I need to pretend I have self-control for a little longer?
“Katie?”
“Huh?”
“I said, what do you want me to wear?”
I blink at him, my brain catching up. “Oh. Right. What about those jeans I picked out for you, and that button up?”
“Whatever you want.”
He finishes with the bed and walks over to me, closing the space between us.
“I want today to be as stress free for you as possible.”
That does it. The clothes slip out of my hands, hit the floor, and I’m moving. My hands come up around his neck, pulling him down. I kiss him because I don’t have anything else to give him in that moment. He grabs my waist, pulling me in closer, and I feel it all the way through me.
“Thank you,” I whisper when I pull back, my forehead brushing his.
“You’re welcome.”
My hands are tucked into my lap instead of wrapped around the steering wheel. It feels wrong not driving my own car, but he didn’t even give me the option.
He took the keys right out my hands, locked the house, and told me I was his passenger princess. I have to admit that made me laugh. I glance over at him, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loose against his thigh.
“You know,” I say, shifting slightly in my seat, “I’m starting to think this whole ‘you relax’ thing isn’t about me.”
He glances over at me briefly. “No?”
I shake my head, watching him. “No. I think you have control issues.”
His mouth twitches. “That so?”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back against the seat. “You took my keys without even asking. That’s not concern. That’s a personality trait.”
That gets a huff out of him, but he doesn’t argue it. It’s all the confirmation I need. I let it sit for a second, watching the road stretch out in front of us, the sign for Britten Valley coming closer, and I tilt my head, studying him again.
“Speaking of things that make no sense,” I say, “you wanna explain something to me?”
“Depends,” he says. “Am I gonna like it?”
“Probably not.”
He exhales through his nose. “Go ahead.”
I cross one leg over the other. “You and Luca.”
“What about him?”
“You’re cousins.”
He nods once. “Yeah.”
“Not only cousins,” I continue. “First cousins.”
Another nod. “Yeah.”
I stare at him for a beat. “And you make him call you boss.”
There’s a pause.
“It’s work,” he says finally. “It keeps things clear. It’s easier that way.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Clear? He grew up with you.”
“And at work, I’m his boss.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “That is so weird.”
He glances over at me again, this time with a little more expression. “It works.”
“Do you make him do it at family dinners too?” I ask. “Like, what, he passes you the potatoes and goes, ‘Here you go, boss’?”
That does it. His mouth actually curves.
“No,” he says. “At family stuff, he calls me Mikey.”
I freeze, staring at him.
“Mikey?” I repeat.
He doesn’t even look embarrassed. “Yeah.”
I lose it. A full laugh rips out of me, my head tipping back against the seat.
“Mikey?” I say again, grinning now, completely gone. “Oh my god, I’m never calling you Michael again.”
He shoots me a look. “Don’t even think about it.”
Too late.
“Mikey,” I say, testing it, my grin getting wider when his jaw tightens slightly.
“I can’t with you,” he mutters.
I laugh again, turning toward the window, still smiling, but my chest feels a little lighter than it did five minutes ago.
“Okay,” he says after a second. “What about Sarah?”
“What about her?” I turn toward him, narrowing my eyes a little.
He lets out a low laugh, one hand shifting slightly on the wheel. “She’s fucking my cousin.”
I blink. “He told you that?”
“Not in those exact words,” he says, glancing over at me, “but it’s not too difficult to figure out.”
“She’s a woman who knows what she wants.” I shrug one shoulder. “I respect it.”
He shakes his head, laughing again under his breath. “Right.”
I turn toward him more fully now, watching him. “You better be careful.”
“Oh?” he says, one brow lifting slightly.
“She’s my best friend,” I say, completely serious for half a second. “Hoes before bros.”
That earns me a look.
“You just called your best friend a hoe.”
I shrug again. “Just know if you hurt me, she will absolutely ruin your life.”
He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Is that right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, settling back into my seat, crossing my arms. “You think I’m the problem? You haven’t met Sarah in full protection mode.”
He looks at me again, something amused and a little intrigued in his expression. “I’m not worried about Sarah.”
I tilt my head, watching him. “You should be.”
He shakes his head and keeps driving.
“Tell me another Michael—“ I stop and correct myself, “I mean, Mikey—story from your childhood.”
His jaw tightens. “Katie.”
“Yes, Mikey?” I say sweetly.
He slows to a stop at a red light and turns his head toward me.
“I can be a lot of things to you,” he says. “Michael. Honey. Sweetheart. Babe. Jackass.” His eyes move over my face. “Stalker, apparently.”
I try not to laugh.
“But not Mikey.”
I tilt my head. “Why’s that?”
His gaze locks on mine. “Because that’s what my cousins call me.”
A pause.
“Not the woman I’m fucking.”
I roll my eyes, but the heat rises in my cheeks.
“We’re not fucking.”
“Yet,” he says.
The light turns green, and he looks back at the road, acting like nothing happened, pretending he didn’t send heat straight between my legs. I turn toward the window, pressing my lips together, but it doesn’t help. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Still want to talk about my childhood?” he asks.
“No, thank you,” I say, controlled. “I actually would appreciate it if we didn’t talk at all. Let’s just enjoy the scenery.”
He hums softly, but he’s watching me. His hand slides across the console and lands on my leg.
“Aw, Doll. Did I embarrass you?”
“Not exactly,” I say, keeping my eyes forward.
“I see,” he says.
His hand moves higher.
“I caused a totally different reaction, didn’t I?”
My fingers wrap around his wrist before he gets any farther, and I push his hand back down to my knee.
“This stays here.”
He lets me move him, but his mouth curves slightly. He’s not even a little convinced I’m unaffected. I keep my gaze on the road. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.