Page 81 of The Love Bandits

If this were a cartoon, my mouth would probably drop open as I watch him turn and walk to—and then up—the stairs without turning around.

Disappointment threads through me, but maybe it’s for the best if he’s given up. Maybe there are only so many times a man will try to give a woman an orgasm before he decides it’s not worth the effort.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LAINEY

I sleep horribly, full of an awful pulsing awareness that Jake’s there, down the hall. He’s there, and I’m…here.

I could go to his room. He did tell me that the next move is mine, but I feel incapable of going to him. He’s right. Idon’ttrust him. I definitely don’t trust the urge I have to give him a break—how I’ve been telling myself that he had his reasons for becoming a thief, and anyway, he didn’t take the watch when the old man offered it to him.

In the morning, I call Mrs. Rosings, who probably hasn’t sent or received a text message in her life. She doesn’t give me any grief about calling off from work. She just informs me that she hasn’t secured a time for me to check out Anthony and Nina’s house but is working on it.

I get ready for the day quickly and head downstairs, where I’m greeted by the delicious scent of life-giving coffee. I smile when I see that Jake has already set out a mug for me.

Don’t speak to me until the cup is this empty, it reads, with a line drawn nearly at the bottom.

I pour myself some coffee and head to the office, gasping as I stop in front of the door. Taped to it is a hand-drawn picture of Jake, me, and Professor X. I have on a scarlet cape anda matching face mask, Jake’s mask and clothes are black, and Professor X is her usual petulant self, although there’s a charm on her collar that looks suspiciously similar to the Heart of the Mountain.

The Love Fixer, The Love Bandit & Professor X.

Tears fill my eyes. I take a second to swallow them back, then breeze into the room, laughing when I see Jake has seated himself in his “sidekick” chair. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans, his hair damp from the shower. My mind, the dirty traitor, immediately conjures images of him standing beneath the spray, his hair sopping wet, rivulets of water running down his abs.

“You could have gone for the other chair,” I say. “I wasn’t here to stop you.”

He smiles at me. “I know my place, Prison Guard. Besides, I want you to trust me. Stealing your chair wouldn’t be a good look.”

The warm feeling from last night is back, pressing at me.

“Jake…I love the picture. It’s…” Words fail me, and I feel heat pressing at my cheeks, so I finish with, “I love it. Thank you.”

He gives me a slow, pleased smile, and I feel it in my chest, the pulse point at my neck, and the slight curl of my feet in my shoes. I want to bottle up that smile and keep it. “Good. I think I made Professor X look too regal.”

“Never.” Then, glancing at his screen, I add, “Any new messages?” I ask, my hand lifting to my neck.

His mouth lifts at one side. “Herpes guydefinitelyhas herpes, and Motherfuckergate is on. She wants to do the banner. Any chance you know how to cross-stitch? I feel like that would add a little something extra.”

I shake my head, fondness twining through me. “Sorry. You did good, Love Bandit.” I feel the urge to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair and kiss his neck. But instead I sip some of the coffee and lower into my chair.

“You need a new website,” he tells me, his brain obviously moving faster than mine. “And an advertising campaign that isn’t Craigslist. I think we should use Facebook. There are a lot of pissed-off people on Facebook.”

“I tried running an ad, but I mucked it up.”

“We’ll do it together. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“You’re going to help me?” I ask, wonder leaking into my voice. Because I can tell he’s probably already thought of slogans. It’s there in his energy—the way he’s found a pen from God knows where since I can never find any and is tapping it against the desk.

He lets it fall onto the desktop. “Of course. Peter-Peter is just the beginning, Lainey.”

I grin at him…and then steal his pen. “I’m going to take that as a promise.”

His eyes holding mine, he grabs the pen. His lips lift—a little higher on one side, and I want to press my lips to that corner. I want to absorb it, so I can have this crooked smile—this moment—always.

He’s going to leave.

He’s going to leave, and that sign he drew will still be here. And I’ll be remembering what it was like to be a part of a team instead of some lone, kicked-out-of-the-club X-Man. I’ll still have Nicole obviously, but it won’t be the same.

Staring into my eyes, he says, “I want you to take it as one.”

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