“That’s because you never eat sweets. It’s okay. What was the ‘hmm’ for?”

Aleck swallows his bite and wipes his mouth with his napkin. He takes a slow sip of water, nowhere near concerned he’s making me wait for an answer. It occurs to me, as if I couldn’t have guessed it anyway, he’s probably used to the world stopping its rotation, waiting for Aleck to speak. He probably doesn’t have to wait for anything. He finally sets his glass down and brings his eyes up to meet mine.

“Two older brothers with a beautiful pain in the ass like you for a sister. I’m surprised they don’t hate you for making their lives miserable with worry.”

“Worry?”

“Mm-hmm. Worry. Guys are shit and you're a ten. If you were my sister—my anything for that matter—I’d kill every guy within a half-mile radius.”

My shoulders bob with a laugh. “Uh, thanks? That might have been a compliment… I can’t decide. So it might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“It was, trust me.” Aleck takes another bite, a shit-eating grin across his face.

I smile, leaning back in my chair. “I like you like this.”

He sits with perfect posture, still refusing to slump, and slides his foot between mine under the table.

“Like what?”

My smile widening, I say, “Human.”

EIGHT

ALECK

Winter furiously tapping her dainty thumbs across her phone screen like she’s typing in a two-paragraph code that will stop the detonation of a bomb, accompanied with occasional giggles, shouldn’t make me feel super fucking cozy, but it does. This kind of thing typically sets me off. Being stuck on a frequently stopping elevator, with a woman in flips-flops and coconut scented lotion would normally have my teeth grinding into dull nubs. But again, it doesn’t.

This little spitfire is warming up to me and while my typical urge would be to send her on her way with a few insults that would keep her hating me indefinitely, I oddly feel the need to let her in. Aside from the fact that her warmth is warm as fuck and feels fantastic, I feel like she needs someone like me to get her through this process. Someone unattached. Someone unaffected by all this wedding bullshit, and I’m happy to oblige.

Is that crazy? That’s fucking crazy.

That A.) I even give a shit what she needs. And B.) My need to provide it for her outweighs my need to fuck her, then write her off like a business expense on my taxes. I shouldn’t care what Winter thinks, how she feels, or what she’s been through. But, again, I do.

And I ate cake. A lot of it.

The elevator finally dings, stopping on our floor. Winter exits without lifting her gaze. Instead, she laughs at her phone and mindlessly waits for me to open the door for us like it’s the most natural thing on the planet. Like I’m her other half, and we’ve done this a million times.