Page 105 of The Love Losers

Consternation crosses his face as he starts fixing his clothes and then gets down to pull on his boots. “And I need your number. I can use my mother’s phone to call you. Or borrow Emma’s.”

My mind working fast, I grab a pen off my desk and bend to write it on his hand as he finishes lacing his second boot.

He catches my hand. “My shirt. The writing is less likely to smear.”

“It’s not Armani, is it?” I ask, hesitating. It’s a regular seeming, long-sleeved shirt, but who knows with his family.

“No.”

I start writing, the pen gliding over the fabric, when he says, “It’s Versace. Write your email address too. I want to sign you up for a dozen newsletters.”

I’m laughing as I finish, hoping to God he’s kidding, and he kisses me once before glancing at the window.

“You’ll have to use the front door, Romeo. Joy covered for you, so you’re good unless my brother decides her 2 a.m. visitor needs a come-to-Jesus moment.”

Conflict fills his face. “I don’t like coming and going like this, like a thief in the night. I want to have a man-to-man talk with your brother.”

Warmth fills me, but I’m no idiot. I shove him toward the door. “That’s lovely, and probably the sweetest thing any man’s wanted to do for me. But I really don’t want you to get a fist in your pretty face, and if you go to my brother’s door in the middle of the night, smelling like sex, and tell him you want to marry me, I don’t see it going well for anyone. Actually, let’s get Joy to go down with you. I don’t think my brother would try an interception if she’s with you.”

“I don’t like this,” he says, his jaw firm. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I know. But let’s keep doing things right.” I get on my tiptoes and kiss his jaw, then pull him into the hall.

I don’t like it either, but everything is one hundred percent better than it was an hour ago. Turns out Santa didn’t betray me after all.

Joy answers her door so quickly, she must have been waiting behind it in her pajamas. With a joint, judging by the smell.

We must look like we just fucked against a wall, because she beams at us.

“My positive visualizations worked,” she says in an undertone.

I’d prefer not to think about what she’s been visualizing.

But there’s a sound from downstairs, followed by a yip of my brother’s dog, and Joy motions furiously for us to come into her room.

We hustle inside, the floor creaking under our feet, and Joy whispers to Anthony, “I’m afraid you’ll have to go out the way you came in.”

He glances at me with a smile. “Might as well break my back before I hit middle-age. I’ve been told I’m going to fall apart anyway.”

“You’re thirty-three,” Joy scoffs. “You’re barely more than a child.”

“Climbing out of windows and sneaking around does have a way of making a man feel young again.”

He pulls me to him again, kisses me quickly, and then opens the window and climbs out, the cold air puffing inside after him. Joy and I gather at the window and watch him go, my heart thumping fast because I'm not sure the scaffolding my brother nailed to the house can take it. It certainly wasn’t designed with a six-foot-tall man in mind.

But he gets down safely, then looks up at us and executes a perfect bow. I mime fainting, blow him a kiss, and he disappears into the sea of white.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ANTHONY

Conversation with Rosie

I’m home.

Thank God. Joy and I were afraid you were going to turn into a human popsicle.

The roads are still not completely cleared, and there’s no way I’m going into the office today, so I email the manager to let everyone know Smith Investments is officially closed for the day.

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