It was insane how easily he opened up our future with those words. I could suddenly see all kinds of shit. Vacations, recitals that were about going together instead of just showing up in the same place to watch our daughter, holidays, not having to split a day into two, movie nights, heading over to Ma’s as a family for Sunday dinner…
Mexico was a great idea. “I can think of worse ways to spend a couple weeks than lying on a beach and sipping cocktails.” Plus, Boone in board shorts was fucking pornographic. He got a nice tan too, and his dark hair became bleached as soon as he was near the ocean. “We’ll probably need to throw Ace a children’s party too, though. She’ll want her friends to come over. Ma’s place is better for that.”
Last year, we’d put together a barbecue for Ace and five of her friends, but it’d been a little too cold for the kids. We’d need a better plan this year.
“Or we could turn your living room into a home theater,” Boone suggested. “We’ll need to be indoors, yeah? All we need is a big flat-screen or a projector—and a bunch of takeout and snacks.”
Huh. Not a bad idea at all. “You’re not as dumb as you look, big brother.”
“Fuck you.” He took a beer for himself. “You may see me as some worker bee who will only burn the midnight owl when I have clear instructions to follow, but I’m fucking intelligent.”
I cocked my head and smiled, confused. “The midnight what?”
“What?” He scowled. “You heard me.”
I smirked and told myself not to laugh, but Jesus fucking Christ—oh, I couldn’t. One laugh slipped out, then another and another. Before I knew it, I was fucking howling. The midnight owl— “Ha!” I guffawed. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I clutched my stomach.
“Shut up!” he growled and shoved at me.
“Oh God,” I wheezed through the laughter. “Oh, Boone. It’s—It’s…” I giggled like a fucking schoolgirl and wiped at my eyes. “You burn the midnight oil.”
“What—no, fuck that. How does that make sense? Owls are night creatures. Nocturnal—that’s the word. They’re nocturnal!”
I cracked up all over again, and I gripped his bicep before he could take a swing at me, ’cause I knew that was coming up next if I didn’t calm the hell down soon.
“Are you done?” he griped.
“Almost,” I laughed, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. “I’m trying—don’t hit me.”
He scoffed. “Don’t hit me,” he mocked in a child’s voice. “Ace told me you’ve been bragging about your new muscles. I don’t see ’em.”
That worked. Some annoyance mingled with the amusement, and I lifted my head to glare at him. Only, I couldn’t fucking hold it. I was in too high spirits.
I ended up smiling instead. “Hey, my abs show now, and look—” I flexed my bicep for him.
It bulged like a motherfucker through my shirt, causing the fabric to stretch.
Boone wasn’t impressed. “Cute.”
It was no use. I huffed and poured another drink instead. We couldn’t all burn the midnight owl to look like monster beefcakes.
I snorted a laugh to myself and went bottoms up with my screwdriver. Important to get my shot of vitamin C for the day.
“I’m really glad we came out.” I stifled a belch into my fist. “Oh fuck—this song!” It was as if I’d forgotten there was music at all—until the right tune penetrated the bubble I was in. And the right song would always be “Be My Lover” by La Bouche. It woke me the fuck up, and I started moving to the beat. This was gold.
Boone merely stared at me, amusement tugging at his lips.
I didn’t feel old anymore. I felt…hungry. Invigorated. I couldn’t sit still any longer.
“It’s always the same with you,” he chuckled. “Like a flip of a switch—every single time.”
“Whattaya mean?” I peered closer at him. “I don’t know what you mean, but I reject what you’re saying.”
He laughed. “I just mean, maybe you require more drinks now to get in the mood, but something always sets you off once you’re out.” He paused. “I can’t tell you how many times you pissed me off way back when, when I wanted to drag you out and you didn’t feel like it. ’Cause I knew you’d like it once you got going.”
Oh—because he didn’t know that I was full of it. “I lied to you back then.” I waved him off. Clearly he was wrong, because he didn’t have the whole picture. “I usually wanted to go out, but I didn’t wanna see a bunch of women draped over you, so…” I shrugged.
Was that too honest? I couldn’t be sure anymore.
I scratched my neck and squinted at Boone, finding him smirking at me.
Fucker.
I’d been too honest.
He tilted his head at me, observing me, which wasn’t his style—he wasn’t an observer—and had an annoying little smile playing on his lips. “You wanna hit up a club now? I can get us into Hakkasan if you want.”
I bet he could. He used to work as a bouncer there, when we weren’t on speaking terms.
“How much time do we got left?” I asked.
He checked his watch. “Three hours and change.”
I glanced out at the dance floor. Compared to the ones at Hakkasan, it was pathetic. But this wasn’t a club. It was a bar with a dance floor. Hakkasan, on the other hand, was huge. Five stories. They went all out with light shows and the best DJs in the world.
“I don’t know if it matters these days,” Boone said, side-eyeing me, “but there won’t be any women draped over me.”
Shit. I swallowed hard and quickly poured a double shot of vodka into my glass. Then I squeezed some lime in there before I threw it back. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to answer him. Fuck that. He knew too much already.
“It matters. Let’s go.” There was something wrong with me. I’d just decided not to tell him more, goddammit. Only one
