Page 55 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction

I’m loving how sheepish and sweet he looks sharing all of this, but I’ve decided not to let him think he’s the only one with secrets.

“Full disclosure, since we’re sharing somewhat embarrassing things,” I say. “I’ve considered breaking the AC on purpose aboutfive times just to decrease the amount of clothing you wear in my house. I’ve thought about that day a lot.”

He moves around to my side of the island and pulls me in close. This doesn’t feel like someone who has experienced my body for the first time. He seems to know everywhere to touch and how to kiss me exactly right. He pulls away slightly.

“Should I read your stuff?” he asks. “I like getting to know you in real life. James sent me the first essay so I’d know a tiny bit about you, but it’s taken a lot of self-control not to read everything else.”

I consider this question carefully. My writing is deeply personal and lets readers into my heart and mind—but Josh is already there.

“For most people, I would say yes. Reading my essays is key to understanding where I am and what I’ve lived through,” I begin. “But I strangely don’t feel that way about you. I feel like you just know me in a different way. You can read them if you want, but the version of me you know is truer than what I share with the world.”

“One last question,” he says. “Is it weird if I just stay here and start working on things, or should I go home so there is a break or something?”

I like that Josh feels unpracticed in navigating this moment. It makes me feel like maybe he hasn’t done it too many times before. Like maybe this is special for us.

“It’s fine,” I giggle. “Just leave your shirt off.”

He scoops me up and wraps my legs around his waist, just like last night. I let out a playful yelp as he walks us back to the guest room.

“I’m going to be a few minutes late for work today,” he whispers in my ear.

And just like that, a man comes to my bed for the second time.

Chapter 22

I keep waiting for thiswhole arrangement between Josh and me to go sideways, but it hasn’t yet. In fact, in the week since our first kiss on the front porch, things have only gotten better and hotter. Much hotter.

To keep things from getting too intense, Josh goes home every other night to his house. This has the intended effect that we both get alone time and, in my case, the ability to process the significance of what’s happening. It also has the effect of making usreallyhappy to see each other in the morning.

Whether I wake up with him in bed next to me or not, the last seven days have all gone a bit like this:

Step one: ridiculously good sex in the morning.

Step two: write for three to four hours at The Drip (this must be done out of the house, or we revert right back to step one).

Step three: lunch together at the house and interviews with either Josh or journalists.

Step four: lazy afternoons spent reading while Josh finishes projects.

Step five: dinner, maybe a little TV, and then more sex.

Most of all, this new routine of ours feels sonatural. Nothing in or about the last year has been easy for me. Everything has been a slog at some point, but not this. Whatever this is with Josh feels familiar and organic. Are we in the honeymoon phase? Absolutely. And I like it.

Somehow, my writing schedule hasn’t been disrupted by all of the distractions from Josh—the opposite, actually. My mornings at The Drip have become my most productive hours of writing ever. I’m starting to wonder if my frustrations with intimacy were making it hard for me to think clearly. Because right now, I’m writing at a blistering pace that has me set to finish the first draft in less than ten days. I’ve begun editing the first fifty pages to perfection to show Felicity.

The nature of Josh’s interview questions has changed, too. We mostly spend our interview time together trying to get some of the standard get-to-know-you things taken care of. Josh and I jumped into serious questions early on, so it feels a bit like we’re starting all over again. It’s all far less one-sided now, too, with me trying to learn more about him.

Yesterday’s questions were a particularly fun attempt by us both to figure out each other’s weird quirks.

“Finish this sentence,” Josh said. “You can’t really know someone until…”

“You see them load a dishwasher,” I replied without a moment of hesitation.

“Really? That’s your answer?”

“It can be a scary look inside someone’s brain, Josh. What’s your answer?”

“You meet their family.”

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