Page 70 of Attached At Heart
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, acknowledging that I understood it even if I hated it.
“Regardless.” Delaney folded her hands on the table in front of her. “You’re miles above Paolo. I’ve heard your rendition of ‘What Dreams Are Made Of.’ You can actually carry a tune,andyou’d never try to frame me for being talentless.”
“I’d never be able to convince anyone you’re talentless,” I chuckled before adding, “To be honest, I forgot how the movie ended.”
Delaney gasped dramatically. “You forgot about the best cinematic climax of all time?”
“You’re talking aboutEndgame, right?”
Delaney glared at me. “See, this is why you’re a fake, Mr. London.”
My lips twisted, trying to restrain myself. “And why’s that,Mrs.London?”
“Because my real husband would never deny the cultural significance that isThe Lizzie McGuire Movie.”
A laugh slipped out of me. “Maybe your husband just needs a refresher. It’s been years since we watched it. Should we see if there’s somewhere we can stream it tonight?”
Her eyes lit up with a brilliant, childlike wonder, and my chest ached at seeing her like this. This side of Delaney hadalways existed, but it got shadowed by everything else in her life, all the responsibility she put on her shoulders.
“Really, you want to watch it?”
I’d never wanted anything more.
“Absolutely.” I went to pick up our plates, eager to follow through.
“Yes!” Delaney jumped out of her seat, grabbing the glasses from the table and shooting ahead of me into the house. “Can I shower quick?” she called over her shoulder. “I feel like I have sand stuck to me even though we didn’t even go down onto the beach. I swear it’s like embedded in the wind or something.”
“Of course.” I smiled, following behind her. “I’ll get it set up.”
Delaney raced off to the bathroom in response, practically skipping down the hallway, leaving me to sift through streaming apps in search ofThe Lizzie McGuire Movie. I found it—thank God—by the time I heard Delaney leave the bathroom, pad across the hall, and close the bedroom door behind her. But when nearly twenty minutes went by and she still hadn’t emerged to join me, I decided to investigate.
“Lane?” I called, giving a soft knock on the door.
Silence greeted me, which caused my mouth to tug into a frown.
“Delaney?” I tried again, louder this time. “Is everything okay?”
When she still didn’t answer, worry washed over me. Morbid scenarios flashed through my mind, and those thoughts caused me to twist the handle without a second thought, pushing my way into the bedroom. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to think that maybe what I was doing would have consequences. I didn’t care about anything that didn’t involve Delaney’s well-being.
I stopped short when I saw her curled up on the bed, still wearing her towel. It was tucked around her securely, covering every bit of her I had no right seeing. Her damp hair was strewnover her shoulders, tangled on the pillow. She had her phone in her hand, like she’d been looking at something before simply…falling asleep.
Something seized up inside me at the sight.
Taking careful steps, I walked around the bed, wanting to double-check what I was seeing.
“Lane?” I said again, my voice barely a breath.
I didn’t really want to wake her up; I just wanted her to stir enough for me to ensure she was okay.
And that was exactly what she did, curling tighter into a ball and wrinkling her nose. She adjusted her head on the pillow. Then she inhaled and exhaled deeply, settling further into a heavy sleep.
A grin slid onto my face, and I folded the other side of the comforter over her, tucking it over like a taco shell. Then I moved her phone to the bedside table, plugging it in before turning to walk back to the living room.
I sank back onto the couch, back to where I was last night.
And then I pressed Play onThe Lizzie McGuire Movie.
Maybe it would drown out the sounds of the ocean slamming against the shore.
