19. Jamie

My phone alarm wakes me up to the fact that there's a cat sitting on my chest. And although the pressure does not help the reflux I knew I'd wake up with this morning, I'm grateful for it. Because the cat—Joseph, I realize when I open my eyes—immediately convinces me that last night wasn't some spectacular dream. I shut off the alarm just as Adrian starts to stir next to me. We must have drifted apart in our sleep because I'm almost certain I fell asleep with him curled around my back—an amazing way to fall asleep, by the way. I fucking love being the little spoon.

I turn my head to watch him wake up, eyes blinking open slowly, his nose wrinkled like he doesn't want to be awake, yet, which is fair. I also don't really want to be awake right now—not when I could be in bed with my adorably sleepy boyfriend.

He grumbles a little and makes a shooing motion at the cat still on my chest. "Go away, Joseph. Neither of us are feeding you, right now."

When Joseph doesn't move, Adrian huffs and scoots closer to physically push him off me. Cat gone, he throws an arm over my bare stomach and presses a kiss to my shoulder. "Sorry about him," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

"It's okay." I carefully maneuver my arm so I can wrap it around him and press a kiss to his forehead. "Morning, darlin'."

He hums softly. "What time is it?"

"6:00 a.m."

He grumbles, and I can't help chuckling as I add "not a morning person" to the little Adrian file in my head.

"I know, I'm sorry. I've got to get up, but you can go back to sleep. I'll let myself out," I say.

He grumbles again. "What time do you need to be in the office?" he asks as he snuggles close. Cuddly when sleepy also goes in the file.

"Usually, I'm already on my way in by now."

"Not what I asked."

"I don't know. I think I'm fairly light on meetings today, but Daniel keeps track of that stuff way better than I do," I admit.

"I assume you also have to go back to your apartment to get changed," he says.

Shit, I hadn't factored that into my timing this morning. But then I remember I still haven't picked up my dry cleaning. "Actually, I can just text Daniel to pick up my dry cleaning in the Capitol complex."

He lifts his head and gives me a wide-eyed look. "There's a dry cleaner in the Capitol building?"

"Well, technically it's underneath it, but yeah. Cool right?" I say with a grin. "So as long as I can borrow a clean pair of underwear and some socks, I could get dressed at work. You know, assuming that's not weird to ask."

"Baby, we literally just had sex, no it's not weird to borrow a pair of my clean underwear," he says with a small roll of his eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry for not knowing the underwear borrowing protocol in relationships between two men. If I'd asked that of any of my past significant others, it would have been weird," I tease.

"It is far too early in the morning to be putting the image of you in women's underwear in my head," he says before returning his head to the crook of my shoulder.

I laugh and grab my phone. "Okay, well, I'm definitely putting a pin in that for later. But right now, I'll text Daniel to tell him about the dry cleaning and check my schedule."

"Is he going to be awake right now? Are all of your staff in as early as you?"

"Not all of them," I say as I type out a text. "Usually just Ben. But Daniel's a runner, so he's usually up around now."

Daniel Kemp

July 8, 6:05 AM

Hey can you get into the office a little early today and pick up my dry cleaning so it's there when I get in later? Also what time am I needed in the office? Sorry I know it's early.

Not a problem, sir! I can definitely do that. Your first meeting isn't until 10:30, so you could probably push coming in until 9.

Do you want me to let the chief know for you?

Yes please. Thanks.

"Well?" Adrian asks as I set my phone back on the nightstand.

"I don't need to be in until nine, apparently," I say as I let myself relax back into the bed.

"So if I were to offer to make breakfast, would you have time for that?" he asks, almost hesitant.

"You don't have to go into the clinic?"

"No, I have today and tomorrow off."

"Then I'd love breakfast," I say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "After a shower."

He lifts his head again and gives me a look hinting at suggestive. "Would you like company in that shower?"

"Darlin'," I say with all seriousness, "unless I am sick or genuinely don't have time, the answer to that is always going to be yes."

Despite the heat in his suggestion, we don't do anything more than make out in the shower. It's still early, and the water does not do much to wake Adrian up. The intimacy is nice, though. It calms the little voice in the back of my head that worries last night was nothing more than another hookup. Hookups—even ones pretending to date for the media—don't take gentle showers together at six thirty in the morning.

Then, after getting dressed—me in borrowed clothes—we head to the kitchen.

I watch as he pulls eggs, bacon, and cheese out of the fridge, and a skillet out of the cabinet. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Either scrambled or over-easy," I say as I lean against the counter opposite the stove. "Can I do anything to help?"

"No, you cooked last night. I've got breakfast," he says, pulling out a bowl from another cabinet.

I laugh and take a few steps until I can wrap my arms around his waist from behind and hook my chin over his shoulder. "I hardly think putting a frozen lasagna my mother made into the oven constitutes cooking."

"You also dropped everything to come over last night because I had a bad day when we aren't even—never mind. Just let me cook." He turns his head to kiss my cheek. "It's my way of saying thank you."

My stomach drops, even though he doesn't technically finish the sentence. I know what he was going to say. God, I feel stupid. That little voice was right, wasn't it? For some reason, I still need to hear him say it, though.

"Finish what you were going to say." My voice is clipped as I let go of him and get some distance.

He turns to face me, a pained look on his face. "Jamie…"

"Finish what you were going to say," I repeat, my tone more biting than I'd like it to be. "When we aren't even what?"

He sighs and doesn't even bother looking me in the eye when he speaks. "Fine. I was going to say when we aren't even really dating."

Bile rises in my throat, and I know it's because of the acidic tomatoes and wine I had last night, but the timing definitely sucks. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the floor. Yup, I'm an idiot. Of course this didn't mean anything to him.

Then his feet enter my field of view. "But that doesn't feel completely true anymore," he says.

My heart clenches.

"I know we agreed that this would be fake—I realize I'm the one that insisted it. And I still don't really do relationships. I can't really do them. But somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling entirely fake."

"About that…" I finally meet his gaze. "Why don't you do relationships? I didn't pry at first because I figured it wasn't any of my business, and not wanting a romantic relationship is totally valid. But I get the sense, especially after last night, that you do actually want it and just aren't letting yourself. And I guess I just want to know why."

"I don't know how," he says, his voice cracking. "It's not just romantic relationships. I don't let anyone in. I don't make lasting friendships. I never learned how. We never stayed in one place long enough for that, and there are only so many unanswered letters a kid can send before he learns that it's easier to just say goodbye and move on rather than try to stay in touch then inevitably be forgotten."

Fuck, if that isn't one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever heard.

"I'm not even going to pretend to understand how you grew up. I can't imagine what it must have been like to never know when you would be told to move or where that move would be to—how traumatic that might have been for you. And I don't blame you for not bothering to try to maintain friendships when you moved so often." I honestly don't. I can't say I probably wouldn't do the same thing if I were in his shoes.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods.

"But sweetheart, you aren't a military kid anymore. No one is forcing you to move again."

He inhales sharply and hugs his torso protectively.

All I want to do is hug him, but I can't stop now. I have to at least try to fight for this. "What about Casey? You let him in."

"Casey is kind of the exception. He wormed his way into my life, and I'm eternally grateful that he did. But honestly, the only reason we're still friends after splitting up for grad school is because he made sure of it." He smiles sadly.

"And Sophie?"

"She was just about as persistent as Casey."

"Well…" I tentatively reach for him, resting my hand on top of his crossed arms. "I don't know if you've figured this out about me yet, but I, too, can be persistent."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, I have."

"I like you, Adrian. I care about you. Let me try to be in your life."

He doesn't say anything for a long moment, but then, he unfurls his arms and slides his hand into mine. "Okay."

"Okay?" I repeat, trying and failing to tamp down my hope. "As in we're doing this? Us? For real?"

He nods and smiles, although there's something guarded about it. "I like you too," he whispers. "I just don't know how to do this."

My face breaks into a grin as I pull him in for a kiss. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Yeah," he says, and I can't help kissing him again.

"Do you still want breakfast?" he asks tentatively when we pull apart.

"Yes, I do."