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It was almost bittersweet.
But no, really, it was just sweet as hell.
I turned and left the little attic. I took the narrows, steep steps down to the first floor, walked past our small bedroom, past the little bathroom, and down another flight of stairs.
Vince turned and raised a spatula in surprise. He was shirtless, his tan and muscular body tense and worked hard, rippling with muscles and veins, and he wore just a pair of short black shorts. He probably planned on going for a run soon.
“Morning,” he said. “You’re down early.”
“I finished.”
He blinked and lowered the spatula. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding,” I said. “I think it’s finally right. I mean, I’ll have to make some tweaks, and maybe adjust the ending, and maybe change a name or two again, I don’t know, but—”
He walked over, swooped me up into his arms, and hugged me tight. I laughed, kissed him, hugged him back.
“We have to celebrate,” he said. “Dinner tonight. Best restaurant in the city. What do you say?”
“You’re acting like we don’t do that all the time.”
“But this time we’ll spoil you first. Spa day, get you nice and pampered, buy you whatever you want, and then go to dinner.” He beamed at me and the pure excitement in his eyes sent butterflies rolling around in my stomach.
“Okay,” I said, smiling like I’d never really smiled before, and kissed his gorgeous lips. “If you insist.”
“I’m really happy for you,” he said. “I know you’ve been working hard at that thing for a while, and I can’t imagine it’s been easy.”
“Far from easy,” I said.
He let me down, kissed my cheek, returned to the stove. I could smell the eggs cooking in the pan, a nice little sizzle in the air. I followed him into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter, scooching back a bit as he chopped and worked the scrambled eggs.
“But you did it,” he said. “Seriously, that’s so amazing. Do you know what you’re going to do now?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Come on,” he said, looking back at me. “Yes, you do.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “I’m going to submit it to Randy at the Inquirer, and when he tells me it’s absurd and total shit and they can’t print it, then I’ll—”
He brandished the spatula at me again. “Stop that,” he said. “Stop second-guessing yourself. You did something amazing here, just own it.”
I laughed and let out a breath, forcing myself to relax. “You haven’t even read it.”
“No, I haven’t,” he said. “But I don’t need to.”
I watched him finish the eggs. He divided them up between two small plates, added ketchup to mine, and slid them over. I looked at them for a second and felt my stomach rumble, though I wasn’t sure if it was hunger or nerves.
This was the part I’d been dreading for so long.
“But you, uh, you should read it,” I said.
He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “Why’s that?”
“You need to make sure it doesn’t cross any lines,” I said. “You know, about your, uh, your identities and stuff. I don’t want to piss your dad off, even though he knows I’m working on it.”
“I’m sure he’d want to read it over,” Vince said.
“He can, if you think that would help.”
He shook his head and stared into my eyes. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t want him to read it. And I don’t want to read it, not until it’s in print.”
“Why not?” I asked, feeling a little desperate surge rush through me.
“Because I trust you,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t want to read your work. Believe me, I really do.” He walked over to me and spread my legs. I wrapped them around his waist as he leaned closer. “But I want you to know that I trust you more than that.”
“I know you do,” I said. “You’ve proven it enough already.”
“This is the last thing,” he said. “The most important thing. This is why we got together in the first place. I want you to know that I trust you completely, and if you choose to publish a story that fucks up my family and makes a lot of trouble for us, then so be it, that was your choice. But I trust you not to do that.”
I bite my lip and nod a little. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” I said. “So maybe… maybe you can read it, just to make sure, you know, that I didn’t screw it up.”
He laughed and shook his head. “That would defeat the purpose.”
“How about your dad then?”
“He’ll make you change half the damn thing.”
“Okay,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Dante then. He’ll be honest.”
Vince frowned a little and blinked, tilting his head to the side like he was seriously considering it.
