Page 44 of This Life and All the Rest
I sit back up when my phone rings, and I’m surprised to see Franco’s name on the screen.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile. “What are you doing awake?”
“Bonjour, machérie,” he greets sleepily. “I was just missing your voice.”
I roll my eyes. He’s such a liar.
“Did you go out last night?”
“I did, but all of these people are dull,” he says, waving his hand in the air. “I came home early. When will you be home? I miss you.”
I laugh, and it feels good. Franco always knows how to make me feel special. Even though I know he is likely entertaining someone else in his bed, it doesn’t bother me. My feelings for him aren’t like that.
We’ve had sex, yes. More than once, and sometimes regularly, but there’s no romantic connection there. We comfort each other in a different way.
“You don’t miss me, Franco,” I tease. “You have plenty of people to keep you company.”
“Ah, but you are the one I want,” he says. “Come home,mon bijou.Come back to me.”
I open my mouth to respond, but a throat clears behind me, and I turn around to see Macon leaning on the door jamb with his arms folded across his naked chest.
My mouth goes dry immediately.
He has a pair of joggers slung low on his hips, and his entire left arm, shoulder, and part of his chest is covered in colorful tattoos.
I stare. I can’t help it.
He drops his arms and stalks toward me slowly. His body is loose, but his face is tight.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says curtly, flicking his eyes from me to my phone screen and back. “I wanted to see if you needed anything before I go to sleep.”
I blink a few times and shake my head no.
“I’m okay, thanks,” I force out, and his lips twitch slightly.
It makes me angry.
He knows exactly what he’s doing coming in here like that, flaunting his body. He wanted to throw me off guard, and he succeeded.
“Goodnight,” I say, more sternly this time, and he smiles.
Damn those full lips.
He drags his eyes from my face back to my phone screen and the smile disappears.
“Hello,” he says to Franco, “I’m Macon. And you are?”
I swear Macon’s voice drops an octave, and when I glance at Franco, I can tell he’s taken aback as well.
“I’m Franco,” he says slowly, then he looks back at me. “Capri, I thought you were staying at your father’s house.”
“Not anymore,” Macon answers for me. “Lennon’s staying with me, and we’ve had a really long day and should probably get some sleep.”
Macon runs his hand roughly over his bare chest and grips the back of his neck. I don’t know if he’s flexing his chest and biceps on purpose, or if they just look like that naturally, but I’m struck a little dumb. From the phone silence, I think Franco is, too.
I gather my wits and open my mouth to tell Macon to buzz off, but then my eyes fall on the clock tattoo on his pec and my mouth drops open.
Franco starts to speak, but I tell him quickly that I’ll call him later, then hang up before shooting to my feet.
