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love the slickness of Brandon’s muscles under my fingers as they trail through the suds. He is so fucking gorgeous that I feel myself getting riled up again, but my body is too spent to fully get turned on again.
    After we get out of the shower, Brandon towel dries me gently and tucks me into bed before sliding in on the other side. He instantly gathers me into his arms and kisses the top of my head.
    “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said as he held me close. Before we went to sleep, he toyed with a strand of my hair and breathed in the scent of my shampoo.
     

Chapter Four
    The next month seems to fly by as Brandon and I settle into life together. Dating a movie star is turning out to be a little more complicated than I had originally imagined. For the most part, it’s been amazing, but there have been a few snags along the way.
    “Charity? Are you even listening to me?” Brandon asks.
    We just hit one of those snags about ten minutes ago….
    We were walking back from the grocery store, after picking up some supplies to make dinner, and about halfway to my townhouse Brandon asked—for the third time this week—whether or not I’ve decided to move to California when he goes back to start work on his next movie shoot.
    “Yes, I’m listening! But I don’t know what to say. It’s a big decision to make.” I am totally exasperated with the entire conversation.
    Brandon doesn’t say anything; when I glance over at him, his jaw is clenched and he won’t look at me. I reach out my free hand to grab his arm. “Please don’t be mad. I just need more time to figure it all out.”
    “All I want is for you to talk to me, to tell me what you’re thinking.”
    “Okay,” I agree. “After dinner, I promise. We’ll talk. I’ll bust out the pros and cons list and everything.”
    He rolls his eyes, but then he smiles and I feel myself relax. He shifts the bags around so that he has a free hand, reaches over and wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me closer as we finish the walk back to my house.
    When we walk through the doors, I am assaulted by reminders of our recent cohabitation. There are at least three pairs of running shoes by the front door—why a person even needs that many pairs of running shoes is beyond me—a laptop and tablet on the coffee table; and a couple old, faded sweatshirts thrown across the back of the couch. And don’t even get me started on the amount of socks littering the floor of my bedroom.
    Brandon’s been staying with me for the past few weeks. He recently had a few boxes of clothes shipped up from his home in LA since deciding to extend his stay to be here while his mom undergoes surgery and begins her cancer treatment.
    I love having him around, but my townhouse was already pretty full when it was just me, so adding all this extra stuff has caused a bit of an overflow. It’s also very apparent that he’s become quite used to having a maid clean up after him for the past few years.
    Fighting the urge to comment on the mess, I shift the topic as we make our way to the kitchen and start unpacking the groceries. “How was your mom doing today?”
    His mom had a double mastectomy a couple of weeks ago and she is still recovering. Brandon spends a lot of time at his parents’ house, on the other side of town, to help take care of her.
    “She seems to be getting better, stronger. We went for a walk today, just around the neighborhood. I think it took more out of her than she was letting on though,” he answers.
    He seems distracted for a moment, but then brightens and adds, “She wants to know when you’re going to come over for a family dinner.” He gives me a smile over his shoulder.
    I finish putting away the last of the contents of my reusable shopping bags and go to hang them inside the pantry. I move around Brandon to get to the pantry door but I don’t meet his gaze.
    Back in high school, when we were dating, we spent a lot of time at his