I swat his chest and laugh. He kisses the top of my (clean and shampooed) head. “Missed you, kiddo.”

Missed me as what? A friend? A muse? A future sister-in-law? The love of his life? I have no idea where I stand with him, and I don’t want to disrupt the fragile peace we have.

I bury my face in his chest. Inhale his scent. God, I missed him. He smells exactly like he did all those years ago. Ocean spray, male, and darkness. The undercurrent of sweetness. The boy I love.

“I can show you around,” I murmur into his shirt. “You know . . . for research.”

“All right.” He gives me a slow, teasing smile full of promise. “For research.”

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SIX

It takes me a few minutes to gather myself and think about where I want to take Joe. I decide against the wharf. Joe works at the docks. The sight of an ocean, no matter how broad and blue, is anyone else’s equivalent of a laptop screen or a calendar. It’s his job. I would take him to a museum or the Golden Gate Bridge, but not only has he already been to the tourist attractions, but it is also about the way he and I do things. We always take the path less traveled.

And so, I decide our first stop is going to be my house.

“You’re making me meet the parents?” He shoves his hands into his front pockets, taking in my street through hooded eyes. “This is the worst date I’ve ever not been on.”

The reminder that it isn’t, and never will be, a date stings. The truth is, I have no idea what we are right now. Friends? Brothers-in-arms? Grievers? Acquaintances? He is obviously over me—he had a threesome. Maybe one of the women he had it with is his girlfriend. Add to that the fact that after the last time we had sex, he didn’t want to hear from me . . .

We’re walking shoulder to shoulder. Well, more like my shoulder to his waist, he is so tall.

“You’re not meeting anyone. Stay here.” I shove him away from the little gate leading to my entrance.

I unlock my door, then slam it before he can peek inside. I rush to collect a six-pack of beer that belongs to Renn—he is going to kill me when he finds out—and some snacks from the pantry. I shove everything into one of Donna’s reusable supermarket bags. When I get out, Joe is exactly where I left him. He is even wearing the same bored-with-your-shit expression. My heart thuds.

“I can see the six-pack from here.” He points at the bag with the hand that holds a cigarette. “Are you pegging me for a cheap date?”