“This love business is absolutely nonsensical,” she told him unsteadily.
“I know,” he replied. “Isn’t it great?”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
Zaf shut the front door and hung up his coat, sweaty from an evening’s practice with his local amateur rugby league, and vibrating with a certainty that Danika was up to something.
They had a routine, on nights like this: as soon as he got home, she’d jump his bones and ask about his day. Apparently, she liked sweat. She also liked grilling him about meetings and workshops while playing with his dick, because it made her laugh when he got his words mixed up.
But today? Zaf clocked her shoes in the hallway, but Dani herself was nowhere to be found.
“Hey, trouble,” he called as he put his Tesco bags down in the kitchen. “Where are you?”
There was a pause before she shouted from the bedroom, “Nowhere.”
The last time Dani had nowhere’d him, it was because she’d accidentally bought a fern on Facebook Marketplace that was almost as big as Zaf—despite being banned from buying any more plants because they could no longer see their TV.
She was taking her newfound work–life balance, and the accompanying hobbies, very seriously.
Zaf shook his head and followed her voice with a sigh. He had visions of his bedside table being replaced by a giant pot of bamboo. “Dan. Sweetheart. You know we don’t have space for any more—”
“Don’t come in!” Her voice was muffled through the closed door. “I’m in the bedroom. But don’t come in! And don’t worry, I didn’t buy another plant.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t! Well, not unless you count that teeny, tiny cactus from Urban Outfitters—”
“Danika!”
“He’s only a baby, Zaf, darling, have a heart. And stay out of the bedroom.” She was laughing, but there was a squeaky edge to her voice that sounded almost like . . . nerves?
Hmm.
In the year since they’d decided to be together—really together—Dani had treated keeping in touch with her emotions the same way she treated everything else: as a goal to be hit so hard and so accurately, she split the target in two. But when it came to feelings, and learned behavior, and past hurts, you couldn’t just read a few books and try really, really hard and be better. No one could. So, a little while back, they’d made a deal. It was a simple one.
When Zaf was worried about Dani, he pushed. And if it felt like too much, she told him.
“Are you okay?” he asked now.
“Peachy. Golden. Flying without wings.”
“Right,” he said dryly. “Listen. I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to make dinner, and we’re going to eat and talk about whatever’s bothering you.”
“Yes, sir, emotional drill sergeant, sir.”
He snorted and flipped her off through the door.
“Are you giving a slab of wood the finger right now, Zafir?”
“You know me so well,” he said fondly, and left her to it.
An hour later, Zaf was clean, the kitchen was filled with the scent of homemade Chinese food (which looked pretty damn good, if he did say so himself), and his girlfriend was still locked in their bedroom.
He knocked on the door.
“Yes?” she called innocently.
“Food’s almost done.”
“Crap.”
“What?”
“I said, great.”
He sighed. “You know, I’m starting to wonder if there’s a dead body in there.”
“Don’t be silly, darling. This is my favorite room in the house, not to be defiled with murder and gore. I’d keep a dead body in the bathtub. Much easier to clean.”
“Good to know. I’m coming in now.”
Dani released a sigh so mighty he actually heard it through the door. Then she said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I suppose this will have to do.”
Er . . . what would have to do? Zaf opened the door to find Danika sitting on the floor with pieces of paper in her hand and a pile of books next to her. Which wasn’t exactly an unusual sight—except for the expression on her face.
“Sweetheart,” he said, hurrying over to sink down beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said with a scowl. But the trepidation in her pretty brown eyes and the way she pressed her teeth into her plump lower lip all said otherwise.
Zaf dragged her into his lap. “Bullshit.”
Dani laughed, slid her hands into his hair, and pulled him close. Her kiss was quick and soft and almost shy, as if they barely knew each other again. She tasted like tea and honey and comfort, and by the time she pulled away, he was light-headed, as always, grinning and drunk on her. Seemed like he’d never build up a tolerance.
Then she asked him out of nowhere, “What did you make for dinner?”
“Nothing special,” he said. “Just, you know . . . egg fried rice. And stuff.”
She smiled, slow and sweet. “Ah. Good choice.”
“Well, it’s—”
“For our anniversary, correct?”
Zaf froze. “That . . . is not what I was going to say.”
“But it’s true, though.” She didn’t look upset. Actually, she looked pleased.
That pleasure spilled over to him, her sunlight too bright to contain. “My girlfriend doesn’t believe in anniversaries,” he said, fighting a smile, “and I don’t like to pressure her. Not when she does Valentine’s Day so well.”
Dani flicked imaginary hair over her shoulder and looked adorably self-satisfied.
“Plus,” he continued, “we only moved in together six months ago. I’m still trying to make sure she won’t run off into the night.”
“You know I’m not going to do that, Zafir.” She rolled her eyes, but there was nothing mocking about what she said next. “I can’t. I love you. And you’re mine.”
“I know,” Zaf said softy. And he really, really did. He’d never
