I cock my head. Study this tired, hurried, too-handsome man. “How come?”

“I’ve been shutting you out for a long time. And I want to make it clear that it’s not going to happen again.”

There is a give inside me. Space hollowing, yielding, readjusting, to make room for a new sense of quiet joy. “Sit,” I say, tapping at the bed, snaking an arm around his waist when he does. “When are you leaving?”

“I’m not sure yet. Dakota is booking us flights out of Palermo.”

“Who’s Dakota?”

“My executive assistant.”

“Ah, right. The dude who goes through your emails.”

“Actually, that would be Seb. I have more than one EA.”

“More than one, as in…two?”

Silence.

“Three?”

A sigh.

“Oh, Conor.”

“I covered for Minami and Sul when they went on parental leave, and the carry allocation—”

“Yes, yes. I don’t think my brother has that many. Then again, my brother occasionally stops working.” I lean my forehead against his temple. Kiss his cheek. “If you ever buy me flowers, should I assume that they’re from Seb or Dakota?”

“I would never buy you flowers.”

I frown. “Never?”

“I would buy you a potted plant.”

“Why?”

“It’s a beloved pastime of mine, watching you drag them to the brink of death and then squirm to Rue and beg for resuscitation—”

He knows me so well, it’s only natural for me to want to kiss him. And once I’m kissing him, I cannot help continuing, pulling him down to the bed, trying to close the distance between us.

I didn’t mean for this to happen. But he smiles, and his mouth is on mine again, fresh and deliciously flavorless, a respite after all that sugar, and that’s how little it takes. His warm hands caressing my skin, folding me easily out of my overalls, my underwear. My fingers scrambling to the opening of his jeans, just as effortlessly. “I…” He finishes kissing me, unhurried, smooth. “We don’t have to do anything. Ever. If you—”

“No, no, but should we—wait?” I ask in between his tongue licking over my lips. I inch back. “I just was wondering, if maybe…”

He stares at me, curious, patient. His gaze doesn’t betray the eagerness that jumps in the quick, heavy rhythms of his pulse under my palm. I laugh.

“What?” he asks, but he’s smiling, too, like all he cares about is being here, with me. Understanding is secondary.

“I was wondering if our first time should be more momentous. Our real one. After all the shit we’ve put each other and ourselves through, you know. And then I remembered that—” I exhale more laughter against his collarbone. “That you are you. And I am me. And that we’re kind of fucked up. I mean, I lost my virginity on MDMA, and your idea of a romantic gesture is probably opening a high-yield savings account for me and then ignoring me for two weeks because you’re not worthy of—”

His lips press against mine, a contusion of a kiss. Half-teeth, but also soft. “Maya,” he tells me, mouth finding my throat. “The things you say, and fuck, you always smell so—fuck.”