Page 92 of Golden Days

“Well, there was a lot of tension around the house and the day before we left for the tournament, I don’t know, something changed on his end. He was frustrated with an old injury and he opened up about it, and he told me I was driving him crazy in the best way possible, and—” I stop, taking a deep breath. “He kissed me in his car while we were coming back from a work meetup. He said he wants to date me.” I smile shyly, picking at my nails on the table in front of me.

“So, you’ve been dating for almost a week now?” Rosie asks, blinking at me like she can’t believe it.

I can’t quite believe it either, if I’m honest. “Not officially. We didn’t do anything but kiss while I was still working under him—I mean, for him,” I say, blushing as I trip over my tongue to cover my accidental innuendo. “Last night marked the ending of my ‘internship’ with his team, so…”

“So, you fucked him,” she announces, a wicked grin on her pretty face. “Atta girl, I knew you had it in you.”

“It felt like so much more than just fucking him, Rosie. I think my crush might have turned into feelings,” I admit, unable to stop the soft smile that plays across my face.

She reaches over and grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers. “I’m really happy for you. But he better take you on a proper date or else he’ll have to deal with me and my Etsy witches.”

I laugh. “He will, we’re just keeping things on the down-low until after the pro-am.”

“Good.” She leans in, eyebrows raised. “So how was the sex? I want the details.”

I roll my eyes, but of course, I tell her everything she wants to know.

The house is quiet when I return. Sunlight streams through the living room window and I quickly scan the lower level and the basement looking for Levi. I call out for him, but I’m met with silence.

I jog up the stairs and stop on the landing, straining to hear if he’s maybe taking a call in his office.

“Levi?” I call again, taking a step towards the bedroom.

“I’m in the library,” he replies.

I smile and walk over to the lush room. The natural light filters in and casts Levi in an angelic glow. I squint down at what he’s reading, Petunia curled up in his lap, purring loudly. Am I jealous of a cat?

“Is that Shakespeare?” I ask, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

Levi’s smile is sad as he bookmarks the page with painstaking gentleness. “He was my mom’s favorite,” he says, throat bobbing on a swallow.

“She died when you were young, right?” I ask, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my hands around them. I remember him mentioning it once, but he’s never brought up his family in any of our conversations.

“I was twelve.” He blows out a breath. “I don’t remember much about her, but I remember she loved her library and her books.” He smiles down at the book placed between us, his fingers absentmindedly caressing Petunia. My heart breaks for him. “Not long after she died, my dad shipped me off to boarding school.”

God, he looks so sad.

I ignore the painful admission about his dad, choosing to keep his attention on the good things. “Did she have a favorite story?” I ask, reaching for his free hand and intertwining my fingers with his.

“Romeo and Juliet.” He smiles, his green eyes shimmering.

“Ah, a romantic, then.” I nod, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand.

Levi sighs and shifts enough so Petunia jumps off his lap. He places the book on the floor and lies down sideways on the couch, placing his head in my lap and joining our hands once more over his chest.

“I never understood why that is considered to be romantic. They both die in the end,” he says, looking up at me.

“It’s about the journey, not the destination,” I scold him. I bring my free hand to his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp.

He melts into the couch, shoulders relaxing. With his eyes closed, he says, “I miss her.”

There’s a burn behind my eyelids and I hold him tighter, not knowing what else to say. After a beat of silence, I land on, “I wish I could have met her. I bet you take after her.”

“Unfortunately, I think I take a lot more after my father than I would like. But it’s nice to think I got some of her qualities,” he says with a hint of self-deprecation.

“What’s he like?” I tentatively ask, stopping the movement of my fingers against his scalp.

Levi opens his eyes and narrows them playfully at me, shaking his head. I smile and resume the scratching. He’s like a cat.