Page 82 of The Kiss Principle

Zé’s quiet laugh rolled through the house. He kissed Igz’s tummy to hide his smile.

“You want me to leave.”

“Of course not.”

“You want me to get the fuck out of your hair.”

“I love spending time with you, Fernando.”

“You know what this is? This is betrayal. Because I’m the whole reason you two even know each other, and now you’re cutting me out of the picture.”

This time, Zé didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Why don’t you tell me what’s in the fridge, and in a few minutes, I’ll get started on dinner?”

I stayed on the couch to make my point.

That slow smile unfurled on his face, and he touched the back of my hand—lightly, and withdrawing again almost immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Where the fuck would you go?” I asked as I got to my feet. “You two are a match made in fucking heaven.”

I thought maybe that being in the kitchen would make things easier, but somehow, it only made things worse. The needle on that internal dial inched a little closer to crazy. I kept wiping my hands on my shorts, pacing back and forth the length of the kitchen, straightening the towel and sweeping breadcrumbs off the counter, and feeling my heart climb higher and higher in my throat. Maybe this was what it felt like right before an aneurysm.

“What’s in the fridge?” Zé called.

“I don’t know,” I blurted. And then, before he could ask what that meant, I said, “I’m ordering something.”

Zé appeared in the doorway, all six feet of him, biceps on display as he adjusted Igz in his arms. His steps were a little too careful. “I think she’s hungry.”

“Where’s your cane?”

“I’m weaning myself off it.”

“Weaning yourself off it? You never used it like you were supposed to! Jesus Christ, Zé.”

“I feel fine.”

“And you didn’t do your PT.”

“Fernando.”

“Where is it?”

He sighed.

“Try that again,” I said. “I’m a little deaf when I’m talking to idiots.”

For some reason, that made him grin. “In my trunk.”

“You’re using it until we see a doctor and you’re cleared.”

He sighed again.

“Speak up, son.”

I thought maybe he’d fight me, but then his face changed, and he smirked. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Do you see who you’ve chosen?” I asked Igz. “This sexual reprobate was your pick.”

Igz didn’t mind, though; she was still smiling at Zé like he shat rainbows.

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