Chapter 32 #2
“Last time it happened by accident. I don’t want—”
He leaned back on the counter, still holding what was left of his sandwich. “You don’t want me to wake up with legal rights over your Netflix account.”
“More like my passport.” She made a face. “Not to mention first standing in a crisis, legal intervention, travel clearance, medical notice…”
“And these are…a problem?”
“For me, yes. And not just me.” She folded her arms, suddenly very aware of her bare legs brushing the cabinet door. “Tier Four binds you too.”
“The Proximity Law isn’t what ties me to you,” Rafael countered, polishing off his snack. “I already am. I told you, I love you.”
The sound of the words went straight to her knees, wanting to buckle. He’d said it before, the same way, like it was fact. Hearing them again, so calm, so sure, made every defense she’d built feel paper-thin.
“You can’t just say that like it’s simple.”
“It is simple. I’m not here for a tier. I’ll sign a license tomorrow if you want.”
Her pulse jumped. “You’re missing my point.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, eyes never leaving hers. “No. You’re missing mine.”
“Which is?”
“I want you free to stay after I’ve tired you out at night. In my bed, in case you need to reach for me. If that makes it Tier Four, so be it. You leaving every night to avoid it isn’t freedom.”
Bea’s fingers tightened around the counter edge. She couldn’t decide what worried her more: his clarity, his love, the law, or the fact she was already halfway convinced he was right about everything.
Rafael’s gaze softened slightly as she glanced down the hallway, undecided. “You’re sure you want to go?”
“I…think I should.”
He nodded once, deliberate. “Alright,” he said, pushing off the bench. “Give me a sec to pack a bag.”
Her brain stalled. “What?”
He opened a drawer, picked up his wallet and keys. “Tiers are only tallied using nights you sleep at my place. We get too close, we sleep at yours. Problem solved.”
Group chat: Therapy Club
BEA: Girls, THREE of you were trending on socials tonight.
BEA: Georgie, congrats on going from closing night to never-ending night!
BEA: Iz, record streams for the show that Dante directed?! Insane.
BEA: Naomi, I saw clips of the brunch. I demand behind-the-scenes commentary.
BEA: Sorry…nothing on you, Lils.
LILLIAN: Excellent. May I never be searchable.
BEA: I love that my friends are celebrities but also…it’s tragic.
BEA: Our friendship has been reduced to quarterly sightings and social media scrolls
GEORGINA: I live for applause, but I’d trade them for a cheese board with my girls
GEORGINA: …that’s a lie. I want both.
ISABEL: Record streams = my inbox is now 70% “congrats” and 30% distant relatives asking for jobs.
LILLIAN: Cancel fame. Reinstate sleepovers.
NAOMI: I’ll tell you everything when you girls come to Westhelm. Long weekend?
NAOMI: Charles and I will host. Boyfriends invited.
BEA: Wait, really? Don’t joke about this. I need it too much
LILLIAN: I’m coming. I’ll ask Adam.
GEORGINA: My final show is that Saturday. I’ll be there Sunday with or without Hunter.
ISABEL: Count us in. Tell Charles to prepare for pandemonium.
NAOMI: He married me. He’s already prepared.
Bea could hear Rafael and Lillian bandying through the open door about the proper way to load a dishwasher.
She stood to go referee before it devolved into philosophy.
Lillian, in striped pajamas and moral authority, glanced up as Bea entered and aimed an amused look squarely at Rafael. “Keep the noise levels under the human-rights threshold, please.”
Bea bit back a laugh. They’d already gone two rounds at his place; she wouldn’t survive another. Naturally, like any self-respecting woman, she didn’t say this out loud.
But her impenitent boyfriend said, “We’ll restrict all diplomatic activity to the bedroom, but I can’t vouch for this apartment’s building quality. The soundproofing could be questionable.”
“Goodnight, Lils!” Bea yelped, covering his mouth with one hand, grabbing his wrist with the other, and hauling him down the hall before he talked himself into testing the walls.
Her bedroom was different with his stuff scattered everywhere.
A navy duffel by the dresser. Chunky black watch on her nightstand. His laptop on her desk. The air itself smelled more masculine.
“What do you think about going to Westhelm for the long weekend next month?” Bea asked. “House party at Naomi’s with the other girls and assorted male partners.”
“I’m good with that. It’d be good to catch up with Prescott.” Then his brow rose. “Assorted male partners?”
“Last title Georgie gave you was my escort.” Bea giggled, unlocking her phone.
He hooked a finger through her belt loop and tugged her closer. “Not entirely off. You do keep booking me.”
Her body registered incoming danger. “Rafael, I’m trying to text.”
“So multitask. Not even going to escort all the way. Just a little.”
She typed blindly, praying autocorrect had her back.
BEA: we’rrrre innnnnn
ISABEL: Why are there tremors in your text
LILLIAN: Because there are tremors in her LIFE
NAOMI: What’s happening right now at your place?
NAOMI: @Bea
ISABEL: Bea Cruz please report
GEORGINA: Lils, status update?
LILLIAN: I’m minding my own business. With noise cancellation on.
GEORGINA: I cannot WAIT to witness this spectacle in person.