Page 69 of Gone for You

“I don’t know. I just make shit up as I go along.”

“Of course you do.” I laugh.

“What? Like you thought those articles were based on any truth? How would we legit know how often people like to have sex based on their sign?”

I grin. Tip back my beer and swallow down a big swig. “Buzz kill.”

She slurps another noodle, this time sauce lands on her nose, grinning like a fool. She’s such a dork.

“Did you also know Santa isn’t real?”

I gasp. “You’re rude.”

“Neither is the tooth fairy.”

I shake my head. Twist some noodles and fork them into my mouth.

“See how I did that? Ate spaghetti without getting sauce all over my face?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Slurp.

All I can do is roll my eyes as we continue chatting and eating.

“Speaking of my articles. Will you help me with one?”

“What’s that?”

“I’m thinking of writing something up about the most unique drinks to order on Girls’ Night Out. Like, more than just cosmos and daiquiris.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“Thanks, Hotstuff. You’re the G.O.A.T., you know that?” Then she gasps. “Wait! Is that why you named your bar The Flying Goat? You were all,” she pauses and lowers her voice, “’my bar’s gonna be the greatest of all time’.”

“Does your dorkiness ever take a rest?”

“Nope.”

Slurp.

“That’s good. I’d hate to be disappointed.”

Silence descends as we finish our dinner but I can’t stop thinking over our conversation. Am I going to be disappointed in less than a week? After Lily’s wedding is over and there’s nothing else keeping Liv here, will she go back to her home? And what does it mean that she remembered a nickname she gave me after we had a three minute conversation over a decade ago?

* * *

I smile to the ceiling,feeling her body pressed against mine. The slight vanilla scent of her skin, the ends of her blonde hair tickling my bare skin. Rubbing my hand up and down her back, the rough callouses against her softness, I let out a slow breath. It feels so good to have her with me.

She presses her lips to my chest and I feel the corners turn up in a smile when my hold on her tightens. Leaning down, I kiss the top of her head and roll us over. Last night she had the rehearsal for the wedding and I worked at The Goat. When I got home, she was in bed waiting for me.

“Morning,” I murmur.

She covers her mouth with her hand and responds with a muffled, “good morning.”

“Afraid you have skunk breath?”

She nods, eyes smiling.

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