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My list of “triggers” is also extensive. It varies wildly from mundane things like having my picture taken to impossible to avoid things like daylight savings time.
Meanwhile, this kiss is about to get obscene, so I have to end it, but Olivier is water in the desert, and I want to drink till he’s dry.
He softens it up like he’s reading my mind—not in a paranoid way, just in the we’ve got a good connection way—and we end up separating, but I don’t let go of him. “Catch me up,” I say. “Tell me everything.”
He hesitates, studying me a little longer.
“I told you I’m getting better. Talk to me. Please. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Okay. Well, so, I’m married.”
I’m so relieved he went through with it. I nod, letting out a breath. “Congratulations.”
He grimaces. “Also, the book got announced. We’re having brunch with my parents after the honeymoon, and every breath I’ve taken since I left this place was just so I could survive until now. Your turn.”
I smile at him, fuck… “Uh… I have a journal?”
Our mouths connect again, and this time, it’s longer and slower and less desperate than the first time.
“You already look so much better,” he says, hugging me close.
“I told you.”
“I trust you.” He runs his hands up and down my arms, gaze locked on my face. “So, is there like—a bathroom somewhere we could go?”
“I wish,” I say. He might be joking, but I’m dead serious. “I need to get away from your dick.”
We give each other one last, thorough kiss before stepping apart, connected only by our hands. We both adjust the tents in our pants and walk to the edge of the patio, away from the other patients and visitors.
I get him talking about the wedding, Elodie’s trust fund, and the unexpected news that he got his parents to sign the penthouse over to him.
“How’d you manage that?”
“I told my dad I’d tell the editor to pull all the content about the arranged marriage.”
“And he believed that?”
Olivier laughs. “I mean, what choice does he have?”
“You’re really okay with all this?”
“It’s turning out way better than I thought it would.”
“No, I mean—losing your family.”
He turns to meet my eyes. “Where do you think you’re going exactly?”
I swallow hard, and we stare at each other a moment. The sun lights up the silver striations in his blue eyes, and I get so overwhelmed, my throat closes. There’s no way I won’t be okay as long as he’s mine. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he whispers, and adds in a lower voice, “Drew.”
“Fuck…” My poor cock.
“Sorry. That was horny. Let’s take a selfie and tease the coming out.”
“You don’t wanna give it a couple weeks?”
“I am,” he says as he slips his phone out of his back pocket. “This one will be about raising mental health awareness on behalf of my very close personal friend.”
