Page 41 of Replay
“So, you just…don’t bring your two-month chump women around your family?”
“No.”
Tilly shifts nervously on her feet. “Well, sorry to get her hopes up with me.”
I wave her off. “It’s fine. I told her you and I were just friends.”
“Oh.” Tilly looks rejected.
I fucking love it.
She inhales sharply. “Where is your father in all of this?”
I stiffen at that question but then force myself to relax. “He has never been in the picture. It’s always just been my grandparents, my uncle and his wife, and my mother. Until she met Bart when I was fifteen. He had Angela with his first wife.”
“Are you close to Bart?” she asks, moving away from the head of the table to lean on the open space beside me.
“Not really,” I reply with a shrug. “He’s a nice enough bloke, but I was nearly out of the house when he entered the picture, so there wasn’t much time for us to really connect.”
“And your sister?”
“Is spoiled. But a good kid.”
She smiles affectionately while staring at the ground. “You know, it was surprising to see this side to you.”
“What side is that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know…like…human?”
“Do I give off extra-terrestrial vibes?”
“Aye, a bit. I mean, you’re tall, dark, and handsome, and ridiculously fit. You have a gorgeous flat and a brilliant job. I’ve been desperately holding on to the idea you’re still a sleazy manwhore who picks up a different woman every weekend.”
I hit her with a deadpan look. “I told you I’m not that guy anymore.”
“I know.” Her brows furrow for a moment. “It became quite clear when I saw you with your family.” Something in her voice and the fact that she hasn’t started walking toward the door gives me hope.
I stand up off the table and position myself in front of her. “Any other questions?”
She jerks her head back, clearly not realising how many inquiries she’s been thrusting my way during the past five minutes. “Sorry…foot in mouth again.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, reaching out to take her hand in mine. “I like your mouth.”
She gazes up at me nervously as I close the space between us. “I thought we were just friends.”
“We are.” I tilt my head and allow my eyes to drift lazily over her face.
She glances down at our joined hands. “Then what are you doing?”
“I figure if friends can have long lingering hugs, then friends can surely hold hands alone in a kitchen.”
She nods slowly, and her tongue slips out to moisten her lips as I close the small space between us. She inhales deeply and lifts her eyes to meet mine. They’re full of longing and attraction, all the fucking sensations I’ve been feeling since the moment I saw her at that charity event over a week ago now.
She exhales a shaky breath and lifts her lips towards mine.
I pause a fraction of an inch from her mouth and whisper, “Tilly?”
“Yes?” her breath stutters as she waits for contact.
