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“Tournesol!” one of the guys calls. “Pass the water, please?” Rooney breaks from her conversation with Skyler, then smiles at the guy as she hands him the water pitcher. I watch him smile back at her and something snaps, dead center in my chest.
“What did he call her?”
“Who, Vic?” Bennett says. “He calls her Tournesol. Means ‘sunflower.’” My hand wraps around my knife so tight, my knuckles throb.
“In case you’re wondering, Axel is fine. He’s not sexually frustrated, and he’s definitely not jealous. He’s just been married to, avoiding, and celibate with a woman he clearly wants. Two weeks down. How many more to go?”
Rooney laughs at something Vic says, all bright teeth and sparkling eyes, and dammit, he even gets her dimples—both dimples.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, strolling down here with gluten-free dessert and the perfect solution to my problem.”
She’s teasing me. I think I like when she teases me, even if I usually don’t catch it at first. It’s worth watching her playfully glare at me, then figuring it out. “My
You two should make a science book. You write the words, Rooney. Uncle Ax can draw the pictures.”
I get the medication there, then I’ll come home—I mean, back here.”
Sighing, she glances down at Skyler. “Is Uncle Ax this bossy with you, too?”
I stand, my hand still lingering on her chair. The one with my wedding ring. Purely to keep everyone away from her. Not because she’s mine or anything.
Not because I’m feeling toxically territorial—well, not too toxically territorial—but because she’s here to rest and relax and be on her own, not to be teased and flirted with by a bunch of good-looking, fit guys her age working on the house, calling her sunflower.
I tell myself I’m not going to stare at that full mouth wrapped around her finger. I’m not going to watch her finger leave her lips with a sensual pop.
Except I stand there and torture myself until every last crumb is gone.
12 ROONEY Playlist: “fever dream,” mxmtoon
“One minute you’re holding my hand,” I tell Axel, his reclined chair parked right next to mine, “taking a deep breath with me. The next, you’re slumped over the bed.”
“Poor guy. Wait until you have babies. He’s going to need his own hospital bed.”
Axel squeezes my hand. “Sorry.” Something dangerously close to affection swells inside me. “Why are you sorry?” “Because I fainted,” he says tightly.
“You were trying to be there for me.” I stare at him, lips pursed in a frown, the prominence of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “It means a lot that, even though needles freak you out, you stayed.”
I pick up the juice box, puncture it with the straw, and bring it to his lips. “Open up.” He parts his mouth and accepts the straw, drinking slowly.
“Want me to tell you a science joke?” I ask. Turning my way, he opens his eyes and looks straight at me for the briefest moment before those emerald showstoppers disappear behind his lids. “Sure.” “Too bad. The good ones argon. Get it? Argon?” I snort a laugh and sigh.
“I know they did their best, and I know, in their way, they love me. But sometimes people love you their best, and it’s still not enough.”
Clearing his throat, Axel opens the book, not where it’s dog-eared halfway through, but at the beginning, before he pauses and feeds me another pretzel. “Now, prepare yourself. I have a stunning English accent.”
