His words reminded me of something else I’d meant to bring up when he got back to town, something that had taken a very low priority. “Your coat—you never took it back after the wedding. It’s in my car.”He waved dismissively “Keep it. I’ve got others.”“What am I going to do with a wool coat?” I asked. “Especially here in Palm Springs?”“Sleep with it,” he suggested. “Think of me.”I put my hands on my hips and tried to stare him down, which wasn’t easy since he was so tall. That, and because his words suddenly returned me to the disorienting feeling I’d had sitting on his bed. “You said you weren’t going to bring up any romantic stuff around me.”“Was that romantic?” he asked. “I was just making the suggestion, since the coat’s so heavy and warm. I figured you’d think of me since it was such a nice gesture. And yet, once again, you’re the one who finds romantic subtext in everything I say.”“I do not. You know that’s not what I meant.”He shook his head in mock sympathy. “I tell you, Sage. Sometimes I think I’m the one who needs to take out the restraining order on you.”“Adrian!
Richelle Meadelle
adrian-ivashkov, humour, love, romance, sage