By Friday morning, when I’m scheduled to leave for the conference, Zuri’s almost back to her old self. It’s clear that her incision is causing some discomfort—she doesn’t let Keeva rest on the lower half of her abdomen, and she moves more gingerly than normal—but all things considered, she’s in good shape, and I pass her a biscuit through the mesh as I bid her farewell.
“I’ll be back on Monday,” I promise. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone, okay?”
She makes a belch vocalization as if to say, I make no promises, and when I tap my fist to the mesh, she places her giant hand against it.
“I love you,” I tell her. “Take care of Keeva.”
Zuri spots Jack passing out handfuls of pumpkin on the far side of the exhibit, and I’m not offended when she trots off to join the excitement. Pumpkin is more enticing than a protein biscuit, and it warms my heart to see her passion for food returning.
“Lucy, you ready?” senior keeper Todd calls from down the corridor. “We’re leaving in five.”
“Ready!” I answer, surprised that Todd’s speaking to me. I regard the senior keepers the same way young soccer players look up to Alex Morgan, and the fact that I’m traveling to San Diego with Todd and Daiyu feels like a trip to the big leagues.
I grab my suitcase from my office, making sure my Dr. Kimber bobblehead is tucked inside my carry-on in case my checked luggage gets lost.
“Hey, Lucy,” Lottie says as I wheel my suitcase toward the exit. “Here, I got you this for the flight.” She fishes a packet of Orbit gum out of her pocket and hands it to me. “In case your ears pop. Mine always do.”
“Wow,” I say, genuinely touched. “Thank you, Lottie. That’s so nice.”
She nods, pleased by my happiness in a way that reminds me of Mia. “Also, this might be a big ask, but if you happen to see any small souvenirs while you’re in San Diego, like a tiny T-shirt or a little hat that you think might fit Ernest, could you grab it for me? I’m working on an Ernest Goes on a Road Trip post, and I don’t have anything for the West Coast.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” I promise, and when Lottie reaches forward to wrap me in a hug, I freeze for only a second before returning the affection.
Kai’s on the same flight, but he sits near the front of the plane with Freya while Todd, Daiyu, and I are toward the back. He winks at me when I shuffle past with my carry-on, giving me a look that says, I’m going to make you come later, and when Daiyu asks if I’m okay, I tell her I’m only sweating because flying makes me nervous. During a layover at Dallas Fort Worth, Kai makes small talk with keeper contingents from Reptiles and Aquatics, but when I pop into a Hudson News to buy a bag of trail mix, he follows me in under the pretense of buying a magazine.
“I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispers as he passes me, giving me goose bumps as I try to select an overpriced bag of carbohydrates. I grab a pouch of sweet-and-salty mix and nudge him as he flips through the latest edition of Ladies’ Home Journal.
“Your room or mine?” I ask, and a thrill runs through me as his gaze meets mine over an article about easy ways to polish your summer wardrobe.
“Mine,” he answers, and it’s a good one, because I’m pretty sure I’m assigned to bunk with Daiyu.
By the time we land in San Diego and Uber to the Gaslamp Quarter Hilton, less than a mile from the convention center, I’m hornier than a bonobo, and before I can give Daiyu an excuse as to why I’m disappearing to the fifth floor, she announces that she’s going to visit a cousin and leaves me alone in our two-queen room. I change out of my leggings and button-down and into a sleeveless shift dress that Sam insisted I borrow after I refused to pack a tube top. Kai’s texted me his room number—he, being a guest of honor at the convention, does not have to share a room—and I’ve barely knocked once on his door when he flings it open and grabs my hand to pull me inside.
“That was the longest flight of all time,” he murmurs, spreading his arms on either side of me as I lean against the door.
“Haven’t you flown to, like, Singapore?” I ask, confused, but I understand when he presses his lips to the ticklish spot behind my right ear. “Oh. Never mind.”
It’s been a week since Zuri got sick and since I last visited him at the Marriott, so we’re both eager to make up for lost time. It’s only a matter of minutes until Kai’s clothes, along with the not-long-for-this-world shift dress, end up in a pile on the floor, and he gets me off with his mouth so intensely that I swear to God I see stars. And when he buries his face in my shoulder as he inserts himself inside me, I get a warm, heavy feeling in my bones, and it’s the sensation of being exactly where I’m supposed to be. As if Kai entering me, his cock filling up the place between my legs, is a destiny. A providence. A coming home.
“Lucy,” he says, his thrusts getting faster and deeper, and I don’t close my eyes as he gazes down at me. “Lucy, sweetheart,” he moans, his hazel eyes ablaze, and the look that he gives me as he finishes—wanting, adoring, knowing—is enough to break my heart and put it back together again.
The conference doesn’t start until tomorrow, so after we reacquaint ourselves one more time, Kai suggests we grab dinner, and we wander a few blocks from the hotel until we find a Mexican place decorated with colorful flags and simple furnishings. We each get an order of carne asada tacos and split a bucket of lobster tails, and even though I check my phone every five minutes in case Phil or Lottie tries to reach me, I’m having the time of my life. While I’m nervous to be away from the zoo and anxious to get my poster presentation over with, it feels good to know I don’t have to worry about cameras for the next three days. And it feels even better to be with Kai, whose easy laugh and willingness to let me eat the last lobster tail make me feel like I can do anything.
When we get back to the hotel and curl up on Kai’s bed, we watch Bridesmaids on HBO while I teach him how to play Egyptian Ratscrew.
“It’s a card game, so contain yourself,” I say when he raises his eyebrows at the game’s title, and by the time the movie ends, he’s as good at it as I am.
“Are you just, like, naturally skilled at everything?” I ask, rolling my eyes when he beats me again.
He smiles. “I’m only naturally skilled at spending time with you.” It should sound like a stupid pickup line, but it doesn’t, and I don’t even cringe when he doubles the cheesiness factor by pecking me on the lips.
“Lucy,” he says before I can turn the kiss into more R-rated fun. “I’m going to present my mother with her lifetime achievement award tomorrow. Will you join me backstage beforehand?”
“Will I join you and Dr. Charlotte Kimber backstage at the convention center?” I ask, dropping my eight of spades. “Um, yes. Of course I will.”
“You sure?” His tone is hesitant, as if by agreeing to join him with my idol backstage, I’m the one doing him a favor.
“Of course.” I’d consider walking on hot coals if Kai asked me to, even though that’s the opposite of no strings attached, and the realization that his happiness matters to me doesn’t fill me with the frantic anxiety it once would have.
“You want to play another hand of Egyptian Ratscrew?” he asks, nuzzling against my cheek.
“Nope,” I say, shoving the cards aside and rolling over to straddle him.
Afterward, when we’re naked under the sheets and his hands stroke my butt with comfortable familiarity, Kai props himself up on his elbow and looks at me intently.
“I know I shouldn’t say this,” he tells me, tracing a line down my arm with his index finger, “but this feels . . .”
He leaves the sentence unfinished, but I know what he means: This feels right. This feels real. This feels very, very, very unlike a summer fling.
“I know,” I tell him, because I do.
I just don’t know what to do about it.