"You—," I said with a squeeze. "In—," another squeeze accompanied my words and I heard him suck in a breath, waiting for me to finish. For me to tell him what he wants to hear. "An apron. I want you to make me a cupcake."

A loud whoosh expelled from his lungs followed by glaring in my direction. "You're cruel and that's not something I can buy you."

I tried to give him the most innocent smile in the world, but it probably came out looking like I was constipated. "I don't know what you're talking about, and you never said that I needed to tell you what to buy me."

He seemed to think about what I said for a minute too long, and I had to wonder what was going through his pretty head. "I'm not good with my hands—," he started to say before the noise that erupted out of my throat stopped him.

"Liar," I choked out, remembering the night he woke me up in Los Angeles with those hands. "You are good with your hands."

Tristan threw his head back and laughed, snorting at the end and it made my heart clench a little. "You're right, I am good with my hands."

"Asshole," I muttered, elbowing him in the rib. I pretty much asked for that answer but still. We both know how he was so good with his hands. "Prick."

"Aww, Kat," he groaned, realizing that he'd aggravated me. "I just meant that I'm not good at building stuff. I'm not creative at all."

I started to nod before he was even done with his sentence. As soon as he said he wasn't good at building things, I had to agree. We tried to put together an elevated feeder for Yoda and that didn't work out so well. The glare he gave me in response to my acknowledgement of his weakness only made me laugh. "What? It's true!"

"I could build something if I wanted to," he said indignantly, tightening the hold around my shoulders.

"You're right, you can," I agreed with him, trying my best to keep a straight face. "I'll buy you some Legos or Building Blocks for you to get started."

His face was a mask of cool and collected as he eyed my face blankly. But I knew him, I could see that there's something building under his eyes, something close to amusement and teasing. It felt like minutes of silence passed between our words. "You need me to go get your emergency panties from your car again?"

Chapter 56

As my wonderful luck would also have it, my cycle lasted three days longer than it should have. I wanted to send Mother Nature a big two-finger salute in thanks for being a cockblocker.

The week leading up to my birthday was spent doing lesson plans on the couch with Tristan while trying to forget that I'd seen the beast in his pants, and trying to avoid reminding myself that I was turning twenty-six. I could remember being twelve and thinking that eighteen was practically half a century away. Once I finally turned eighteen, I thought it would take forever to turn twenty-one. Somehow, right after I turned eighteen the next seven years went by in a blur. It was exciting but scary because I wondered how fast the next twenty-five years of my life would pass.

There was also something about twenty-six getting closer and closer to thirty that made me think of my mom much more often than I was accustomed to. It didn't help that I was on my period because everything reminded me of her and practically screamed out that I was right around the corner in my own life from when she’d lost hers. Could I imagine dying just a few short years from now? No, I couldn't. I had to remind myself each time my thoughts would go in that stray vector that I could easily die today, or tomorrow, six months from now, eight years from now, or hell, seventy years from now. I know that my mom wouldn't want me to live my life counting down to my death. I know that I wouldn't want anyone I love to live life expecting to die.