Page 34 of The Boyfriend Material Novellas

“Hey to you too.”

“Did you know I’m going to miss you when you leave?”

His smile is a bit sad. “Tell me about it. I’m going to miss you like crazy. How the hell did that happen?”

I frown, punching him playfully. “Exactly. You’re not supposed to be so likable.”

“I could say the same about you being all funny and sweet and too good to be true. You really ought to cut it out.”

I laugh, but it’s tinged with wistfulness too. “And you. Please stop being wonderful.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I promise I won’t stop treating you like you’re the one person I want to spend every night with.”

My heart aches, knowing those nights are winding down far too soon.

* * *

In the morning, I say goodbye as he heads to the office, then I make my way to the shower so I can do the same. The next two weeks pass in a blur of falling snow, final party prep, and all our December nights and mornings together.

The evening of the fete, as I shower and get ready to meet Vaughn, something hits me.

Something I’ve been missing.

Something that isthree days late.

14

VAUGHN

“Whoa.”

That’s the reaction from Callie when I show her my nearly empty apartment on FaceTime.

“And this surprises you?” I ask.

She shakes her head, then nods. “Yes. No. I mean, it doesn’t surprise me, because I’ve got all the boxes here at your new condo,” she says, panning around to show me the place in Florida, stacked with the boxes I shipped down, plus most of my furniture. “But it does raise the question—where are you sleeping?”

A grin threatens to take over my face, but I school my expression. “Quinn’s.”

One brow arches. “Every night?”

I count off quietly, stopping when I’m well past ten. “Yeah, every night, I guess.”

“Huh.”

“What’s the ‘huh’ for?”

“The ‘huh’ stands for ‘What are you going to do when you can’t see her every night?’”

I hate the thought of not seeing her. And I hate hating, so I do my best to avoid the pain of the question. “Then I won’t see her,” I say as matter-of-factly as I can.

“And how do you feel about that?”

I give her a look like her question doesn’t compute. “Did you wake up in the body of Freud this morning? ‘And how does that make you feel?’” I ask, mimicking her.

Wow. That came out kind of snotty.

“And I have my answer,” she says.

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