His head snaps up, his dark locks swishing around his face as tumultuous, frantic eyes meet mine.
“You keep running, and I keep pretending I’m fine with it, or that I’ll keep tolerating it. I’m not, and I won’t.” I probably shouldn’t have picked right now, when everyone’s downstairs after Christmas dinner to have this conversation, but to be frank, I was afraid he’d tuck tail and bolt all over again. Even after his mom threatened him with her shoe.
“If you want me in your life, you need to stop fleeing every time it feels real.” It’s not an ultimatum, but it is a boundary. One I’m ready to stand firm behind because this is getting ridiculous. Either he’s in or he’s… nope. I’m not even putting that thought out into the universe.
His breath stutters. It’s so slight that most people would probably miss it—but I’m not most people—and I’m watching him like a mother staring at a newborn baby to make sure he’s still breathing.
When he still doesn’t say anything, my shoulders slump. “I’m done being the one who holds all the space.”
Still nothing, and I can’t read him, but I also can’t back down from this. If he’s going to choose me, he needs to choose me with his whole chest. “Figure out what you want. Please. I’ll be here when you do.” The part I don’t say out loud is ‘as long as it doesn’t take too long.’
His throat works like he’s swallowing words he’s terrified to say out loud. And I get it, giving a voice to your feelings is a scary thing to do, but I need more, and that’s scary too. We’re both vulnerable.
The space between us feels like a held breath. A creak from the doorframe brings our attention to his mom, Gabriella. She regards us with a soft smile, filled with warm emotion. “We’re getting ready for dessert.”
I clear my throat and stand up. “I’ll go help my mom.”
Gabriella nods. Artemis still says nothing, which isn’t surprising since his mom’s now standing watching us, but my heart splinters a little all the same. There’s no hand squeeze, no reassuring stare, no comforting nod… just silence. So, I pick up what’s left of my dignity and head downstairs.
After about ten minutes, Ifeelhis presence before it’s announced. Everyone’s at the dining table, getting stuck into dessert and wine, and I’m holding back, sulking with my butt-hurt little heart that my boyfriend didn’t declare his undying love for me like something out of a romance movie.
His fingertips brush the inside of my wrist as he reaches for me, spreading goosebumps up my arm. He turns me towards him, and God dammit, I hate how handsome he is, because there’s a part of me who’d stay this man’s dirty little secret for as long as he’d have me.
His hands sweep up my biceps to softly cradle my neck as his soft eyes hold mine. “I hear you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The warmth that ravages my body is embarrassing, but he’s giving me something huge, and I’m grabbing it with both hands as I tip my forehead against his and let out a slow exhale. “Thank you.”
He nods against me.
“I don’t need a billboard announcement in Times Square.”
He retracts his hands from my face leaving an ache for them to come back, then pats down his pants. “Shit. Shit. Shit. I need to cancel the billboard.”
I roll my eyes, but don’t fight the chuckle vibrating in my chest. “Shut up.” I give him a playful shove. “I mean…” I pause and tip my head to the side like I’m considering a declaration of love on a billboard in the middle of New York City.
He boops my nose. “Nope. You rejected my grand gesture.No take backs.” He brushes his nose against mine. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’m trying.” He dots a chaste kiss on my lips. “I’m not good at this, it’s all new to me. I’ll get better at it.”
His voice sounds so hopeful that I can’t take the pressure in my chest, and I don’t know what to say, so instead, I say nothing, and kiss him, tenderly sealing both our hopes together, right here in mom’s cinnamon-scented kitchen.
CHAPTER 42
Artemis
Ifuckinghatelong distance. I hate that my day feels split clean in half—before he replies and after he does. It’s like my mood’s been outsourced into another body.
The movies always make it look so… romantic. But it’s not. It’s really fucking not. It’s painful. Physically, emotionally, every which way, it fucking hurts.
Christmas at the Martinez’s last week is like a long-departed dream, a fuzzy haze of bliss that doesn’t feel quite real. I should have stayed another night, stolen some alone time with Xavier instead of living with a painfully rigid and unserved hard-on that seems to be a permanent fixture in my life right now.
With each day that passes, rational logic gets further away, too. I’m in too deep. Like, so deep. I can’t stop thinking of him, I grin like a damn Cheshire cat when he replies to my messages, I yearn—actually fucking yearn to hear his voice at night.
It’s bad. So damn bad. I’m one missed good-morning text away from chartering a flight I absolutely do not have time for. I loved every minute of our families spending time together,and at the same time, I hate that I loved it. I hate that Icraveit. I want every holiday to be like that, loud, messy,fun.
I want to send him the world. Yes, the whole thing. With a giant ribbon bow tied around it. But considering how he reacted to the delivery of gifts the day after I left, I need to give it a while before I send him anything else.
His mom fucking loved it though, she said so herself in the group chat. Yup. Our moms put all of us together in one chaotic group chat. What’s worse is, it might be my new favorite thing. Even Apollo’s fucked up memes can’t ruin it. And trust me, he tries. He’s got some really fucked up memes and literally no shame.
I’ve had to keep the chat muted all week because it’s been so busy. Everyone loves everyone. Okay, that’s not quite true, we’re still in the honeymoon phase where people aren’t getting on each other’s nerves. But it feels… real, like something tangible, precious, and I feel… dare I even think it? Happy. And happy feels unsafe.
