Page 96 of The Apparent Trap

“First we scared snow leopards, now we’re making salty goulash?”

I snort out a laugh. “That’s better.”

“I feel better,” he says, the sunshine back in his expression. “Is this all it takes? Just saying the sappy stuff you’re thinking and then moving back onto talking about food?”

“Who knew it was that easy!”

He gives me a wry smile. “Now it’s your turn.”

“To talk about food?” I ask, taking a spoonful of soup.

“No,” he says. “To talk about your relationship.”

I practically spit out my soup. “Oh now we’re jumping into that?”

My dad shrugs. “It works for you, apparently.”

“What do you want to know?” I ask, a little shy. We’re still so new at this version of sharing.

He crosses his arms and leans in so we’re even closer. “Is he good to you?”

My edges soften with the obviousness of the answer. “I think he’s taught me what good actually is.”

“Because of what he says?”

I shake my head. “I think it’s more that he always has a snack ready for me before I even know I need it.”

My dad rumbles an approving note. “He shows up,” he finally replies, distilling the essence perfectly.

“Yeah,” I reply, warmth blooming at the thought. “And I trust that he’ll keep showing up.”

Later that night, Lee and I are lying in bed together, my head nestled against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat is soothing, like it’s the loop I could get used to. The sound is mine alone; I’m the main character of this particular story, and I’m the only one who gets to hear what’s on the inside.

His fingers wrap around my curls. “Fetish much?” I joke, and he playfully tugs.

“I would absolutely admit to having a fetish with your curls.”

“I should’ve never blown my hair out that first day we met. If I’d started with my natural hair, we would’ve been making out in the bar by the time Carmen showed up.”

I can hear the depth of his laugh with my ear pressed against him. Its sound reverberates across his whole body. “That would’ve solved so much.”

“And yet, it all turned out okay.”

“It did,” he says, tilting his chin down to kiss the top of my head.

The affection makes me press against him, and I can feel him instantly react. His grip on my hip tightens, possessive, an invitation.

“Do you really have the energy right now for another round?” I ask.

“Is this the part where I get another old man joke?”

“On the contrary.” I turn so I can see his face, my chin resting in the divot of his chest. His hand runs down my back, making me shiver. Our bodies are so entwined I’m not sure where mine begins anymore. “I like your optimism.”

“It’s a lot easier to be optimistic with you around.”

He continues to wrap my hair around his fingers, and I lean into the touch, the comfort of easy silence a balm.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally ask, a question surfacing.