Page 23 of Triple Play

Instead, Blake tightens his grip. “Any opinion on beds, sweetheart?”

Yes, you and me in one, ASAP. “Dealer’s choice.”

For some reason, that answer makes Felix grin. “Sure. Just thought I’d ask.” And he wheels his suitcase toward the hallway.

A tendon in Blake’s neck jumps. He makes a noise low in his chest, a grumble of irritation. So, they’re gonna be like this. Better angry than suspicious.

I tap Blake’s arm again; he startles like he’s forgotten he’s carrying me. “Okay, for real, put me down.”

“If I have to.” But he sets me on the beige living room carpet. “Sorry this place was all that was available.”

As if there’s some problem to be found in a snug split-level, with a ’90s kitchen complete with oak cabinets and decorative chicken dishtowels. “This is fine,” I say, then add, “I’ve definitely lived in worse.”

“Huh.” He considers. “How do you like your current apartment?”

“Why? Are you going to get me a new one?” I joke.

Except he shrugs like he might just do that. If he can’t handle the fact I’ve lived in shitty apartments, in worse than shitty apartments, there’s really no hope for him understanding anything else. “Babe, I like my apartment. It’s really nice. It has an icemaker and a dishwasher.”

“Well, if it’s got both of those. Anyway, tomorrow, I’ll get someplace nicer.”

“Honestly, as long as this has a bed and a shower, I’m good. Speaking of…let’s see what we’re working with.”

So we roll our suitcases down the narrow hallway that has three doors along one side. Behind the first, there’s the faint shush of water running, as if Felix waited all of ten seconds before claiming the shower. Beyond that, two bedrooms sit side-by-side. The first door stands open; Felix’s suitcase is laid out next to a palatial king bed.

“Guess we’re taking the other room,” Blake says.

Down the hallway at the next bedroom, Blake pauses in the doorway for a moment before he enters. “This’ll be okay for the night.”

This room is smaller—or maybe it just looks smaller. Two full-sized beds occupy most of it, each clad in a faded paisley bedspread, overseen by a large window that looks right out into the front yard. From the look of it, there aren’t even blinds.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Felix. Of course he’s doing this on purpose. “We should switch.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Blake says. “Give you your space.”

“I don’t need—” I cut myself off. I want markedly less space in this relationship. But I don’t want to push Blake. He should get to go at his own pace too. Maybe he’s understandably wary about getting someone pregnant, even if I’m three years into a five-year IUD—a fact I’ve been trying, and failing, to slip into conversation for the past month.

So I try a different tactic. “Maybe two beds isn’t so bad. We should test them out, just to be sure.”

That gets Blake’s smile. He seats himself on the edge of one of the beds—at least it doesn’t groan. From there, it’s easy to plant my knees on either side of him, to slide onto his lap. His hands find their way to my waist… Now we’re getting somewhere.

I lean forward, about to kiss him, to see if this bed has springs that squeak like Lilac’s brakes, when Blake’s phone rings—an actual ring like he wants to make sure he gets the call. He groans as he pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen. “I gotta take this.” Then he gently but firmly guides me off his lap.

Frustration gathers in my throat that fades just as quickly when Blake pinches the bridge of his nose, then says a weary, “Hey, one sec,” to whoever’s calling him. He covers the speaker with his palm, then turns to me. “You should grab a shower if you want. Are you hungry?”

My stomach answers for me, rumbling. Great, really sexy.

“I take it that’s a yes,” Blake laughs.

Outside, gusts of wind beat snow against the bedroom window. “I’d feel bad for making a delivery person go out in this.”

“Good thing I asked the host leave a couple bags of groceries.” Blake considers. “If Paquette hasn’t taken those all too.”

Something about the casual way he says it—of course Blake planned for food—makes me throw my arms around him until he almost drops his phone.

“Everything good?”

Oh, I’m being weird. “Most guys I’ve dated wouldn’t have thought of that.” Most guys I’ve dated wouldn’t even ask if I wanted to split takeout.

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