An Extra Pump of Sugar

Chapter 28

Honestly, who could've known that his insult generator bore such a mushy center? I never expected to find an emotionally intelligent researcher under the surface, let alone a genuinely fun person to be around.

"I think I'm open enough," he argued. "Kids these days just aren't willing to read."

I rolled my eyes. "Kids these days? How long ago did you graduate, grandpa?"

He laughed at that—a dry, breathy sound that sent my heart spinning—and I gazed at him for a moment, overwhelmed with gratitude. I'd only ever dreamed of waking up next to a man like this who looked at me like that. I'd craved this kind of intimacy for so long, and now that I'd actually unlocked it, the whole situation felt surreal. And frankly, too good to be true, especially given my past.

Theo set his guitar aside and leaned over to kiss me. "I'm gonna rinse off before work. Care to join me?"

"As much as I like to compete for hot water under that exposed pipe you call a showerhead, I should probably get going. I told Jay I'd stop by before work and bring him some popsicles." It was one of the few things he could keep down these days, and I knew he was sick of yogurt and chicken broth. I had to get creative to keep his appetite up, even after a little CBD.

"No worries. Stay warm out there, okay?"

We kissed again, holding each other captive for a few extra seconds, struggling to detach, to depart. Then he gave an agonized sigh and peeled away.

He closed the bathroom door behind him, and I stared at the wooden paneling for a while, fighting the urge to chase after him.

God, why was leaving his apartment so damn hard? Even after we'd spent the entire morning together? Was I that clingy? Or was it just a chemical imbalance that fostered my codependency?

I tore my gaze away. Get a grip, Moe.

I put my camera back in its bag and dropped to the ground to search for yesterday's clothes. At some point during our evening shenanigans, Theo had apparently yeeted my bra and underwear into another dimension, because they were nowhere to be found.

Grumbling to myself, I peeked under his bed and spotted the lacy garment in the corner.

A-ha!

After pushing a shoebox out of my way and crawling around an empty guitar case, I snatched the underwear in my fist. Then I shimmied out from under the bed and glanced down at the lidless container I'd extracted—only to freeze at its contents.

Theo had stored a number of random objects inside the box, but sitting at the very top of the pile was a candid photograph of Alyssa.

I stared down at her pretty blond hair and sea-green eyes, deeply unsettled, as if I'd just awakened a poltergeist that simply refused to move on.

A violent hiss of water made me flinch, and I glanced at the bathroom door again, assessing the pros and cons of snooping. This was Theo's stuff, not mine, and he'd chosen not to share any of it with me. I had no right to rifle through his private belongings.

But curiosity—and a churning stomach—pulled my gaze back to the box.

Upon removing Alyssa's photo and a stack of love letters from Spain, I quickly realized nothing in this time capsule was random. This box was a memorial to Alyssa and Theo, the couple, the pair, the item. A box independent from the one sitting unclaimed by the door.

Seashells and river rocks shared storage space with Polaroids, photo booth strips, concert tickets, and a mixed cd. There was also a half-empty bottle of perfume and a custom guitar pick engraved with their initials.