The adorable brow furrow made its appearance, and I slowly, slowly, licked the bitter drops from his chin before swiping the last one at the corner of his mouth with the tip of my tongue.

He shuddered, fingers painful on my knee. I wanted to kiss him so bad—ly—but I wouldn’t cross his line.

The slam of a car door made us both jump. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I peered around, but still couldn’t see anyone amid the rows of vehicles. Laughing, I slumped against him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his throat, feeling the faintest scratch of stubble.

“Guess we’d better go upstairs,” I mumbled against his skin.

“Mm.” That familiar sound was raspy.

We hauled our skating bags out of the trunk and crossed the concrete lot in silence that I wanted to fill. It was freezing, and I wished we could get in the hot tub.

I said, “Brr,” because I was a dumbass.

As we got on the elevator, Henry asked, “What are you eating tonight?”

“I’m ordering Swiss Chalet. I saw a commercial for the special they have with stuffing and cranberry sauce to go with the chicken. And chocolates. My mom won’t like it, but whatever. It’s Christmas.” I fidgeted uneasily. “I should be better, I know.”

“You’re not bad.”

The elevator slowed at Henry’s floor, the doors opening with a ding. He stepped off, then turned to face me, putting out a hand. The doors bounced back.

“I only asked because I want to make sure you have something nice to eat.”

“Oh! Yeah. Thanks. I’m good. See you in the morning?”

Or I could come down after my call and we could watch TV or have sex or do crosswords or have sex or whatever. We could sleep together again, and we don’t have to have sex. I just want to wake up with you.

He nodded as the doors slid shut, and I was left with too many unsaid words clogging up my brain.

Chapter Twelve

Theo

“Um, let me see.” I examined the Scrabble board, my mind spinning uselessly. Henry and his grandpa were amazing at the game, and I was putting out sad little words like, “run” and “bike” and “go.”

My foot jiggled under the small table. We were in a festively decorated common room at the old folks’ home. Christmas carols played on a boom box with surprisingly clear sound, and various families visited residents.

Garlands were strung along the ceiling, and a big tree in the corner was decorated with a lot of handmade paper and glitter ornaments probably made by some kids.

Humming, Mr. Sakaguchi popped a chocolate rosebud in his mouth, sucking loudly. He’d refused to wear his hearing aids, and Henry had only tried to convince him for a minute.

“Okay, I guess I’ll go with this.” Cringing, I put down my tiles, forming “wake” on the board.

Mr. Sakaguchi shook his head and tapped a gnarled finger on another spot on the board that led to an available letter “e.” He pointed to the red square, and I squinted at it.