A soft moan fell from my lips, and his gaze met mine.
"Feel good?"
"So good."
He grinned.
"You know, you're a really good boyfriend," I admitted. Even though our relationship had an undertone of pranks and jokes and relentless teasing, Thatch was a good boyfriend. I knew I wasn't an expert by any means when it came to relationships, but beneath that wicked sense of humor, he was thoughtful and caring and sweet. So fucking sweet sometimes I wondered if I'd get a stomachache from sugar overload.
His brow rose in question.
"I mean, look at you," I said, nodding toward his hands on my feet. "You're rubbing my gross feet after I just ran like fifty miles."
"You're feet aren't gross." He plucked one of my hot-pink painted toes with his index finger and thumb. "They're cute."
I wiggled my toes. He chuckled.
"And you only ran a mile. Mile and a half, tops," he added with an amused grin. "I ran more than half of the race with you and Phil on my shoulders."
"But I ran the hardest part of the trail. There were more hills on the first end."
Yeah, that was a lie. They weren't any hills.
He winked. "Of course, you did, honey."
I wiggled my toes again. "So who taught you how to be a good boyfriend? Your last girlfriend was in high school, right? What was her name?"
"Yes." He paused briefly and then started kneading at the balls of my feet. "Her name was Margo."
"How long did you guys date?"
"A little over a year."
"Why did you break up?"
"We didn't." He turned on the bench to face me. "She died at the end of our senior year."
Whoa. That had been unexpected. In the past, before Thatch, I would've shied away from going further with this conversation and tried to lighten the tone, but I didn't want to do that.
"Wow, Thatch … I'm so sorry … I don't really know what else to say."
"It was a long time ago," he reassured. "When it happened, of course, I was devastated. But as time passed, and wounds healed, I knew that my relationship with Margo was a huge part of my life because of the way it ended, not because of the actual relationship we had. We were both young, wild, and selfish. If she had lived, and every day I wish she had, I know Margo and I wouldn't have been sitting here together on this park bench. I just wish she could have had the opportunity to spread her wings and really fly, really find herself."
My heart grew two sizes bigger inside my chest. There were so many facets to Thatch's personality, so many tiny particulars and huge guarantees, but underneath all of that charming swagger and good-natured sense of humor was a good man. The best man.
I reached out my hand and grabbed his, squeezing it gently.
He smiled softly in response. My lips mimicked his, and I didn't try to stop the permeating affection from showing beneath my eyes. I wanted him to know I cared. I wanted him to know he was easily becoming my whole world.
Phil snorted in my lap. His little eyes peeked open and glanced around the outside oasis.
Thatch grinned down at him and then his eyes met mine again, "Ready to go home?"
Home. I couldn't deny my first thought was, Home is wherever you are now.
"Yeah, baby, let's go home."
"So you're good to get him to Monarch tonight, right?" Georgia asked as I stepped into the crosswalk with the phone to my ear.
Kline's birthday party was finally upon us, and we were all just living in Georgia's world until it was over.
I shook my head and smiled at the near panic in her sweet voice. "I won't let you down. I'll get him there no matter what it takes."
A bike messenger weaved up and around me to cut in front of the pedestrians. Cabs and cars filled the streets, the height of the commuting hour packing a half a dozen extra sardines into the can.
"But, like, you're not gonna drug him, right?"
A startled bark of laughter had the people in front of me looking over their shoulders. I ignored them and focused on the woman at my ear. "No. I won't be taking advantage of your husband in any way. But I will carry him there if I have to."
"Good."
"Not good," I corrected. "If I have to physically carry your husband to his party tonight, you better start planning my funeral."
She giggled. "Okay. At least I've gotten a little practice at event planning, so I'll make sure it's nice."
"That's not really comforting at all."
"I'll also make sure Cassie puts a picture of her boobs in the casket with you."
I smiled at the visual. "Okay, I'm feeling slightly comforted now."
"Fantastic!"
I heard some guy hoot in the background, and my eyebrows pulled together as I made my way across 5th Avenue. There was never any shortage of people talking to you when you didn't want them to, men hooting at the attractive women, as though yelling at them gave them a chance, or crazy people forgetting the meaning of personal space. But as hard as I focused my ears, I couldn't figure out which of those scenarios Georgia was currently encountering.
"Where are you? Do you need me to do anything else? I've got about an hour before rugby practice. I'm just running by the tattoo shop to make sure Frankie's good, but I can skip it if you need something."
"Thanks, but I think I've got everything covered. I'm meeting Cass in just a few minutes, and then we're going over to the bar to finish setting up."
Three beats in the space of what should have been one, my heart sped up at the mention of my roommate and lover. It was unexpected but not completely unwelcome. Still, the feeling was overpowering, so I tried to distract myself with meaningless questions.
"What did you tell Kline? I can't imagine he likes the idea of not being with you on his birthday."
I could practically hear her smile. "I told him it wasn't that he wouldn't be with me, just that he'd be with me later. And that I'd make sure being with me was verbiage for some very dirty activity."
"Ah," I breathed. "The real way to a man's heart. Your puss-"
"Yeah, I get it, thanks."
"Hey, I'm just saying, my stomach isn't really the answer unless it's got a pussy sitting on-"
"I said I get it!" she yelled, and I laughed at the mental visual of curious eyes turning her way on whatever busy street she was walking.
"What's that? Did you say you didn't get it? I said-"
"I will hang up on you!" she threatened in a way that was supposed to be scary but had all the danger of a chipmunk behind it. She was too cute to be lethal, and if she wasn't, I guess that was how I'd die.
"Okay, okay," I conceded with a laugh. "Just pass the message along to Cassie, okay?"
"I will not dirty-talk my best friend for you."
My face felt swollen as my cheeks climbed up around my nose, but I made sure to do my best impression of an audible pout for her benefit. "Ah, come on. The visual is so good."
"Kline would kill you if he could hear you right now," she said in my ear, just as I spotted what I knew was his back disappearing down the steps of the subway ahead. It didn't happen often, especially now that he was living outside the city, but on occasion, the world did its best to remind me how truly small it was. Quickening my steps, I strode after him.
"Good thing he can't, then, huh?" I teased.
"I'm not even sure why I talk to you."
"Because you love me. Everyone loves me," I deadpanned. The woman walking next to me glanced up with surreptitiously curious eyes. She didn't want me to know she was listening, but she also didn't want to miss a word.
Raising a hand, I gave her a wave and wink. Disgusted eyes met mine for a second before she sped up her stride to put distance between us. Given the natural length of my stride, her little legs looked like she was running a hamster wheel.
"Right," Georgia scoffed in my ear.
"I'll see you in a couple of hours, Georgia girl, and I'll have your dreamboat of a man at my side."
"You're ridiculous."
"-ly handsome? I know. Don't worry. I won't tell Kline you think so if you don't."
"Bye, Thatch."
I shook my head as I heard the sound of her hanging up on me before I could respond.
Everyone made it so easy.
Except Cassie.
That wild, beautiful woman brought her own game to the table, and as time went on, the truth was becoming more and more apparent-I fucking loved it. The challenge, the change, the way she didn't take any kind of shit without giving it right back. And somehow, she managed to maintain a certain amount of softness while she did it.
Whether it was a glance or a smile or a step closer to me in proximity, there was always some sign that she had vulnerability in there somewhere. That she cared about others and wanted them to care for her.
That she wanted all the things out of life that people often misunderstood about a woman like her-family, friendship … love.