“You have insurance?” he asked gently.
I wasn’t following from our sexual banter to that question, so I asked back, “What?”
“Insurance, personal property. You covered?”
“I don’t know how covered I am, but I do have a policy,” I answered. “Why?”
“You’ve got something on your mind. Not surprising since your apartment exploded. And maybe we should talk about that.”
Oh. That.
I blew it off. “It’ll be okay.”
His scrutiny, already acute, got more so right before his thumbs moved to stroke my throat.
Both of them.
He’d never done that before.
It felt delicious.
So delicious, I wondered if I threw a tizzy about my apartment, what that would get me.
“You haven’t talked about that hardly at all, honey,” he noted.
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, genuinely curious, and his thumbs stopped.
“Ally, baby, you lost everything,” he said quietly and carefully.
“Yeah,” I replied and he blinked.
“Yeah?” he repeated after me, but his was a question.
I shrugged. “It’s just stuff. I had my phone and my laptop on me and the backups of both were at my pad so it was good I had them. Clothes, furniture and kitchen implements can be replaced,” I told him, but finished on a mutter, “though I’m gonna miss my towels and sheets.”
When he said nothing and this lasted awhile, I focused on him, not my incinerated sheets.
“That’s it?” he pushed. “You’re gonna miss your towels and sheets?”
I shrugged again. “Sure.”
Then I stopped being an idiot and realized he was concerned for me. And it was sweet, as Ren could be.
Therefore I leaned into him and lifted both my hands to wrap my fingers around his wrists.
“Stuff is stuff, Ren,” I told him softly. “If someone wiped my memory clean of the Whitesnake concert Indy and I got in shitloads of trouble sneaking off to Vegas to go see but was totally freaking awesome, that would be bad. Or if someone wiped away me standing in a bridesmaid dress watching one brother, then another, take the women that were made for them as their wives, that would be bad.”
I leaned in closer, gave his wrists a squeeze and kept going.
“Or if I hadn’t watched an Italian American hothead in action in a parking lot brawl and sensed he was the one for me, that would be bad. Losing my sheets sucks. They were awesome. But they don’t mean anything. People mean something. Memories mean something. Things mean nothing.”
Ren stared down at me, but his thumbs were sweeping my throat again and his gaze was unwavering.
When this lasted some time, I asked, “What?”
“You do know I think you’re the shit, don’t you, Ally?” he asked back.
I got to feeling warmer and leaned even closer, which was to say, I pressed my body to his and replied, “I know.”
He moved in and brushed his lips to mine, but he didn’t move away or take it further.
He stayed close and stayed on target.
“So what’s on your mind?”
“Dinner,” I answered, and that was partially true.
“Baby,” he whispered, said no more and didn’t move.
I sighed.
I knew what he wanted.
Okay, this was us now and I figured it was time I started sharing.
The problem with that was, I didn’t share. Not with anybody. Not even sometimes Indy. That just wasn’t me.
But I had seen the way my mom was with my dad, and Marcus with Daisy, and any of the Rock Chicks with their Hot Bunch boys and learned that give and take was key.
