A Cosmic Kind of Love(49)

Hallie laughed softly and I kept talking. In fact, once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop.





NINETEEN





Hallie


The sound of seagulls crying infiltrated my consciousness, followed by the gentle, rhythmic whoosh of the ocean. My eyes flew open, and it took me a moment to figure out where I was. The room was dim, with heavy curtains drawn over the large window.

It was the guest room Chris had shown me to last night.

Pushing up into a sitting position, my mouth felt a little dry and my stomach grumbled, but otherwise I felt okay considering the amount of wine I’d consumed.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I switched it on. I’d switched it off at some point yesterday to conserve the battery. A minute later, my phone told me it was only a few minutes past 8:00 a.m. That meant I’d had very little sleep because Chris and I had talked on the stairs for ages about his mom and Miguel, about the distance between him and his father, and how it had always been that way.

Sliding out of bed, I wandered into the bathroom and grimaced at the ghostly pale face staring back at me in the mirror. Deciding to have a quick shower, hoping to rid myself of any toxins leaking through my pores, I tried not to overanalyze this weekend.

Or the past two weeks.

Had it really been only two weeks since I started spending time with Chris? That didn’t seem right. It couldn’t be. It felt like we’d known each other much longer.

Smiling to myself, I kept the jets off my hair, scrubbed myself down, and got out. Not wanting to waste time in case Chris was already awake and eating breakfast without me, I hurried through my makeup routine, using the supplies I carried with me everywhere in my purse. I knotted my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and changed back into my clothes from yesterday. My T-shirt smelled a little. Yuck. It would just have to do, I supposed. I wondered if there was a way to stay upwind of Chris for the rest of the day. Feeling self-conscious about it, I reluctantly opened the bedroom door and almost stepped onto folded black fabric. There was a piece of paper on top. Reaching down, I smiled as I read it.

    Yours if you need it. Chris.



I lifted the fabric, and a man’s black T-shirt unfolded. It had the logo of one of our favorite bands on it. Grinning so big my cheeks hurt, I stepped back inside the room and closed the door. Bringing the T-shirt to my nose, I inhaled the scent of fresh laundry, but it didn’t have Chris’s cologne on it. Still, it was Chris’s shirt.

Feeling stupidly giddy, I whipped off my sweater and T-shirt and shrugged on his. It hung way too big on the shoulders, but I didn’t care. I tucked it into my jeans as best I could and slipped my sweater back on over it.

I was wearing Chris Ortiz’s T-shirt.

It was like being fifteen all over again and the cutest guy in school gave me his jacket to wear on a chilly night. I stuffed Chris’s little note in my purse like a fangirl.

Shaking my head at myself, I slipped out of the bedroom and hurried downstairs.

Richelle sat at the table in the kitchen, sipping coffee, her plate half-empty of French toast. She looked up as I strolled in and smiled warmly. Bandit had been sitting at her side, but he dashed across the room to greet me. He really was a beauty. And he’d been responsible for shoving Chris into me upon our arrival, so I had him to thank for that delightful moment.

At my exuberant greeting, Bandit got excited and jumped up, putting his paws on my shoulders in order to lick my face. I burst into a fit of giggles, trying to avoid his kisses and not stumble under his weight.

“Bandit, get down!” Richelle yelled, laughter in her voice.

The dog obeyed, and I shot her a grin.

“He didn’t get you, did he?”

“Nope, but not for want of trying.”

“He likes you.”

“He’s friendly.”

“Not with everyone, believe it or not. He must sense something about you, like I do.”

That was so nice. “Thanks,” I murmured, warmed by the comment.

I had to admit I’d been nervous about meeting Chris’s aunt, even more so when we pulled up to this beautiful house. But I shouldn’t have been. Richelle was as down-to-earth as her nephew. I wondered, however, if she’d be as nice and forgiving as Chris was about the videos if she knew.

“Let me get you a coffee and some French toast.”

“No, I can do it,” I tried to insist, but she ignored me.

“Just sit down and help yourself to some orange juice.”

Since I was parched, that sounded like an excellent idea. “Thank you.”

“Is that Chris’s shirt?”

I gave a huff of laughter. Of course she’d notice that. “Yeah, he left it outside my room for me.”

“That sounds like Chris. He’s always been an incredibly considerate person.”

I think he’s wonderful and sexy and complicated and beautiful and so smart I’m pretty sure he’d fascinate me until the day I die. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“It’s amazing to me you’ve only known each other such a short time. He’s so comfortable around you. You seem like you’ve been friends your whole lives.”

I couldn’t meet her gaze, instead I stared out the window to avoid it. “It seems that way to me too. Where is Chris?”