Page 71 of While the Sun Shines

“Yeah?”

“Can we—maybe tomorrow, or sometime, can we talk about all of this?”

She tenses. It’s slight, but he can feel it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. Gently, he draws her hair aside and kisses her shoulder. “I want to know how to not do that, okay?”

She takes a breath. Slowly, she says, “Okay.”

“We don’t have to.”

“No.” She lays her hand over his. “No, you’re right. We should. But not now.”

“No, not now,” he whispers and kisses her shoulder again.

He listens to the slow rhythm of her breathing as she drifts off to sleep. I want to do this again, he thinks. And will do anything—anything—to get that chance.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Drew stirs, Penny lets out a soft sound, burrowing into her pillow.

“You getting up?” she mumbles.

Hell no, he wants to answer. Wants to stay in bed with her all day. Kiss the curve of her bare shoulder. Press his face into the fall of her dark hair. Curl an arm over her waist, nestle close, and let time drift on by beneath warm blankets and the high of bare skin.

“Coffee,” he says by way of excuse because really, he’d never leave. He’d lock the door that opens to the upstairs and just live in this basement for the rest of his life with her.

“Hmm, good call,” she murmurs.

“Want—uh, want a cup?” Bringing her coffee in bed. This is like a dream. He went to sleep and hasn’t woken up yet, despite the chill on his skin of pushing the covers back, the worn carpet beneath his feet.

“Please.”

“Milk?”

“Always milk.” She curls up under the covers and tugs the blanket up to her chin.

Penny’s not even looking, nestled into the sheets and clearly intending to keep dozing. Still, he holds the sheet over his lap, dragging his boxers toward himself with his foot. Be normal, he thinks desperately as he looks at her, quickly jerks them up to his waist, and then looks again to check if she even noticed.

No, normal is not caring if the woman he just slept with sees him naked.

But it’s Penny.

And they had sex.

Wow.

“Breathe, Drew,” she whispers.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m doing that.”

She snorts a soft laugh. “Sure you are.”

Drew feels like he should look different when he braces his hands on the sink in the basement bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. Like last night’s seismic shift should be apparent on his face, beyond the crease of the pillow on his cheek and his hair that he has to finger-comb back into place. But it’s just his normal reflection looking back at him, and the only difference in the glare of the sconce is the color toothbrush he unwraps from its plastic and the taste of the toothpaste Aunt Lucy left for them.

Upstairs, the house is still dark, the rooms dim and gray with the early hour. In the kitchen, dishes are piled next to the sink, paper plates with crusted frosting overflow the trashcan, and he stands there, staring around, sure he’s waiting for something.

For what, though? Drew shakes himself, and gingerly, he opens and closes cupboards until he finds the one that holds the coffee filters.