Page 78 of Only and Forever
She gives me a puzzled look. “Ashbury being in the shop. I figured, given your emotional attachment to him, you’d be upset.”
It hits me like a bolt of lightning. All at once. I sit up on the sofa, anxiously scraping my fingers through my shower-wet hair. Panic builds inside me.
This... warmth filling me, when I look at her.
Watching her here, this sense of... rightness.
My beloved car has been towed to what will probably be its final resting place, and I’m not falling apart. I’ve had more important things to think about: riding home on the Vespa while clutching Tallulah’s waist, breathing her in, soaking up the warmth of her skin seeping through her clothes. Showering so I didn’t stink to high heaven, trimming my beard a little to make it look less scraggly.
This is not normal. This is... different. More.
Oh God.
“Viggo?” she presses.
I blink, shaking my head. “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m okay. Donnie at the shop will take good care of him. Ashbury will live to drive another day. I have faith.”
I don’t. But the old Viggo would, and that’s the one Tallulah needs to think is still sitting here, talking to her.
Because the new Viggo is a man who is... changing before his very own eyes. This new Viggo texts not one of his three local siblings or parents or friends when his car doesn’t start—he textsTallulah. This new Viggo isn’t lonely and antsy on a Saturday afternoon, putzing around his house, trying to find something to do—he’s sitting here, counting down the minutes until Tallulah comes out of the shower.
This new Viggo... is quite possibly falling for his roommate. Quite possibly has been falling for her since the first time he watched her walk into his classroom seven years ago, looking for her since the day he walked out of the world they shared, until they stumbled back into each other’s paths, seven years later.
It can’t be that, can it? All this waiting and wanting, yet not finding a single person I clicked with... was it because I already knew what I wanted,whoI wanted? She just wasn’t... here?
It can’t be that simple. That cruelly simple.
Maybe what I’m feeling is just the familiarity we’ve started to build after a few weeks of living together. Maybe it’s simply the pleasure of getting comfortable around each other, working on her book, working on my store, sharing meals, hanging out with the pets. Maybe this is how being friends feels with her.
I stare at her as she strolls into the kitchen. “I hope he can fix up Ashbury for you, too,” she says. “If not, I’m going to be stuck hauling you all over Los Angeles on the Vespa, driving ten miles under the speed limit.”
The familiar teasing eases the tightness in my chest, cools my brain’s overheating thoughts. I smile.
She smiles back. After a beat, she asks, “Did you trim your beard?”
I bring a hand to it, equal parts satisfied and self-conscious. She noticed. “Just a little.”
Her smile deepens. “It looks nice.”
More warmth spilling through me. You’d think she told me the sun rose when I did, given how good it feels. “Thanks, Lula.”
“You missed about four inches, though. And you used the wrongtool.” She makes a buzzing noise and mimes dragging a razor along her jaw.
“You leave my beard alone, Clarke. It gives me character.”
She laughs, straight from her belly, and I grin like a fool. “You have character aplenty without a woodsman beard, Bergman.”
Romeo barks, chiming into the conversation. “See,” I tell her. “He has my back.”
Juliet makes a whiny groan and rolls onto her back. “Andsheagrees with me,” Tallulah says, “don’t you, Juliet?”
The dog hops up and wanders over to Tallulah, brushing her snout into Tallulah’s hand. Tallulah pets her and mutters something quiet and sweet. “What about you, Romeo?” she calls.
My traitorous dog trots her way. “There you go,” she tells me. “Three to one. The beard goes.”
“Like hell it does.”
She gives me a coy smile, then turns and opens the fridge. “Okay, food time. Let me guess. You didn’t eat.”