End of Story(59)

“But I have really great shoes. Don’t you think they deserve to be on display?”

“Almost tripped on some the other day.”

“Sorry.”

“What about me?” he asked. “What do I do that annoys you apart from the stubble?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

He just snorted.

“Though you did murder the toothpaste by squeezing it from the middle. And you didn’t just squeeze it, you throttled it.” I made the coordinating hand motions. “I don’t know where all of that anger came from, but it was seriously misplaced. That toothpaste never did anything to you. Then you left an empty toilet roll on the holder when there’s a trash pail and a basket full of toilet paper right there. And what’s with the kitchen cabinets and drawers being half-open all the time? Do you have commitment issues about fully closing them, or something?”

He just looked at me.

“You also ate all of the good snacks and left me none. But I’m going to let that slide because you were bored and in pain.”

“Thank you,” he said drily. “That’s big of you, Susie.”

“You’re welcome.”

He went back to staring at the ceiling, then said, “Of course, the weirdest thing you do is sniff me when you think I’m asleep.”

I choked on a laugh. “Never would I ever.”

“Then you gently press your face into my arm and just stay that way for a minute or two.” He gave me side eyes. “Want to explain that to me?”

“I like being close to you. What do you want me to say?”

He grunted.

My face felt a little hot, but oh well. There were worse things to be busted doing than searching for intimacy with someone. “Does it bother you?”

“No.”

“So you tolerate my weirdness?”

“I like your weirdness,” he said. “You think maybe you divorced me because I kept eating all of the snacks? Or do you think it had more to do with me mangling the toothpaste?”

“I thought you wanted to ignore the divorce certificate.”

“You’re probably right that it’s not something we can ignore.”

“Relationships are hard.” I squished my cheek back against his bicep. “One thing I know, I’m going to miss you when you move back home.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you for the designer shoes and the orgasm. You made my day much better.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” Lars pulled himself out of my car in slow motion. Being careful not to do himself any damage. Easier said than done, since I drove a Mini Cooper. It was one of the larger four-door models, but still. The dude was tall. It was a week since the accident and he was doing much better. But still. You could tell by the way that he moved that he was in pain. “My parents want to thank you for looking after me and to get to know you better. Why are you so worried?”

I nodded and chewed at the inside of my cheek. “Well, I don’t have a great track record with parents in general. But my top two reasons currently are your bestie took me to meet his mom and she apparently hated me with a passion. And last weekend you told your parents I’m so clingy you had to stay with me. Pretty sure that didn’t endear me to anyone.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Hmm.”

It was Saturday night and I was standing on the lawn in front of his childhood home with a charcuterie board in hand. How I’d agonized over the placement of the olives and prosciutto. Not to mention the selection of cheeses. Their home was a sprawling two-story on a hill in Lakewood. Next door sat the house owned by the Ex’s parents. And surprising no one, it was the biggest on the street. I spotted one of the upstairs curtains moving. We were being watched. Not sure if Aaron’s mother was sticking pins in a voodoo doll of me, but I could feel a headache coming on.

“Hey,” he said, leading me down the garden path. “You look beautiful.”

While it was true that my black linen shorts, silk camisole top, and new platform sandals were splendid, I still had serious reservations about attending this small family BBQ. Deborah hadn’t visited again while he was recuperating at my house. Instead, she texted and called her darling son. Given the level of concern she initially displayed, it was hard not to read things into this. Or maybe I was just paranoid. Could be either.

“You even wore a strapless bra for me.” He stopped to kiss me on the neck. A move that never failed to make me shiver. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome.”

He opened the front door and shouted, “We’re here.”

“Back deck,” called out Henning.

It was a beautiful evening with a warm breeze, the scent of fir trees, and a killer view of Lake Washington. Clouds in the distance threatened wet weather later. But not for hours yet. Their house was nice, tasteful and homey. Lots of distressed wood, cream accents, and family pictures. Terra-cotta pots full of flowers in bloom decorated the back deck. Maybe Deborah could give me some tips on how to keep my tomato plants alive. Jazz played over the sound system and Henning stood at the grill. He waved his tongs at us in greeting. The same way Tore did at the pool party. Family likenesses fascinated me. How Henning and his sons had the same smile, for instance. My closest relations had little in common with me. Although I had Mom’s dark hair and Dad’s stubborn chin. That was about all.