Page 29 of Love Like Lightning

“You can join me on the bed,” she offers so casually that I make my way to her and climb onto the bed without a word of question.

It’s as comfortable as I remember, and I make a mental note to ask Roxy, the owner of the bed and breakfast, what kind of mattress it is. Gia turns so she’s on her side, facing me, and I maneuver my body so I’m mirroring her.

“What was your question?” I rest my head on my arm and try not to let the memories of the last time we were in this bed overshadow my time with her now.

But it’s hard. No, not hard. Let’s not think about hard things. No need for anything hard right now.

Jesus, get it together, Henry.

“I asked what else you do. You iron, so I’m assuming that means you do laundry, and it’s clear that you clean. You keep your apartment tidy, you said.”

“You say it like this is some kind of novel idea. I do do laundry, but doesn’t everyone? It’s a basic thing.”

Eyebrows raised, she starts to say something, then stops, shakes her head, and laughs. “I hate to break the news, but I’ve dated plenty of guys, and have plenty of guy cousins, who barely know how to turn a washer or dryer on.”

Now it’s my turn to be confused. “Were they never taught?”

“Oh no, they were. I’ve asked. As far as I can tell, they just didn’t care to actually learn.”

“What do they do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they clearly have to wash their clothes, so what do they do to get them clean?”

“Oh, well, some of my cousins still take their laundry home, and my aunts will do it for them. Or they have girlfriends who do. One of my exes dry-cleaned everything because he couldn’t be bothered even though he had a top-of-the-line washer and dryer in his apartment.”

“That’s—dry cleaning is stupid expensive.” I’m sure my face does something funny as I try to do the mental math to calculate what kind of bill that would be for me. I do laundry a lot with the line of work I’m in. So much so that at a certain point, I insisted on paying for the water at my apartment. It took some convincing, and the house had to be metered by the company so Hank and Betty could make sure that I was paying my portion and they were paying theirs, but I made sure of it.

My exasperation pulls a smile from her. “It is. He could afford it.”

I balk at the casual way she just said that she’s used to dating men with “fuck you” money. More money than I’ll probably ever see in my life.

“Better him than me.”

“I’m impressed, honestly. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising, but you seem so much more mature than any guy I’ve been with or my cousins. Well, not all of them, but enough. And you’re younger than me. It’s just…refreshing.” Her comment sounds honest, and it fills me with a warm, comforting feeling.

I like that she sees me that way. “Well, thanks, I appreciate that. I absolutely do not speak for all men, but there are some of us out here who aren’t certified man babies.”

The comment makes her laugh. “So, what else? Do you cook? Save puppies?”

“I can cook. Nothing fancy, but I get by. I bake too.”

“Wha—what do you bake?” Her wide eyes and deeply creased forehead have me seriously wondering what kind of guys she’s used to out in Boston. Are they all just roaming around, not knowing how to live?

“I bake all kinds of stuff. I’ve been on a big croissant kick lately. My mom was always baking when we were kids, and I was her little shadow, so I picked up a lot. She’s an amazing cook, but I always gravitated to sweets. Probably because I couldn’t have as many as I wanted.”

“Diabetes?”

“Yeah, I was diagnosed pretty young, at five. My mom didn’t let my siblings go nuts with pastries or sweets either, now that I think about it. I guess it just felt like it since I had to pay so much more attention.”

“That makes sense. I’ll readily admit that I am a mediocre chef at best and a downright awful baker.”

“If I were trying to pick you up, I might say something like ‘you’re sweet enough on your own.’”

Matching my grin, she shifts slightly, bringing her body closer to mine. “Are you not trying to pick me up?”

There’s a subtle but obvious shift in the atmosphere around us at her question. The air thickens to the point that it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s suddenly too warm and yet my body strains to move closer, to be closer to her.

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