And yes, I pack an overnight bag.
I cave. I'm staying with Vince. At least for the night... just one night to start. That's what I tell him, despite his insistence that I stay until my apartment is "safe."
I pack light: a toothbrush, some soap, clothes, a book, andanyyoga gearspared from the destruction.
It isn't that I don't want to stay with him—I absolutely do. But it's the principle of it all. I'm not some damsel in distress. Icanchange the locks myself tomorrow morning. Staying at Vince's is a luxury, not a necessity. I can take care of myself.
Butwhenhe lookedat me with those puppy-dog eyes, full of worry and concern, I caved. Maybe, deep down, I really want the excuse.Hispuppy eyes are a great excuse.
By the time Iget there, it's past lunchtime, the break-in having consumed the entire morning. Vince promises to make us something to eat, and it's sweet that he's thinking about lunch whenI’mnot.
We both know what's happening tonight, right?
"I'm going to hop in the shower," I say, dropping my overnight bag by the couch. "Don't start without me."
Vince grins. "Wouldn't dream of it. Coffee and sandwiches will be waiting when you're done."
After my shower, I find Vince in the kitchen, humming to himself as he chops tomatoes. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air.
"Smells amazing in here," I say, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and resting my cheek against his shoulder. "You didn't have to do all this."
"Hey," he says, tilting his head to press a kiss to my temple. "Let me take care of you for once. Besides, I'd rather not have you chopping vegetables with those hands. They're too valuable."
I laugh, breathing in his scent—clean soap and something uniquely Vince that makes my chest tighten. "Valuable for what, exactly?"
"For all the yoga things," he says, nudging me playfully with his elbow. "And other things I have planned later."
"Oh, yeah?" I murmur, burying my face in his neck.
He slides the bread into the toaster. "So, I was thinking about the New York press trip.I’ll be out promoting my new project, agent says it’ll take about two weeks."
"Two weeks," I say, my voice muffled against his shoulder. "That's a long time."
"Yeah," he agrees, his voice softening. "But the girls are flying out to spendaweekend with me. Their first time in the city. I'm taking them to see the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, maybe a Broadway show if I can score tickets."
I tighten my arms around him. "That's incredible, Vince. They're going to love it."
"I hope so," he says, turning in my arms to face me. His eyes shine with excitement. "I've been planning this for months. Want it to be perfect."
"I'm proud of you," I say, reaching up to brush a stray crumb from his cheek. "And I'm going to miss you like crazy."I pause. “You know, Vince, I just realized I don’t remember the last time I went a day without you.”
He wraps his arms around my lower back, pulling me closer. "I'll call you every night," he says, leaning down to kiss me. "Would that help?"
"Maybe," I whisper against his lips. "But you'll be busy with press events,andthe girls."
"I'll make time," he says firmly. "Always."
The toaster pops, breaking the moment. Vince pulls away reluctantly, turning back to assemble our sandwiches.
"I still say it's too long," I grumble, leaning against the counter.
"Two weeks," he says, pressing a warm plate into my hands. "And then I'm all yours again."
I trace the rim of the plate with my thumb. "I'd fly you out in a heartbeat, Andy, but..."
The but hangs between us, heavy as unspoken promises.
"But?"
