Chapter 27: Tender Like This
Bramwell froze completely.
For one endless second he only looked at me. His expression was open and vulnerable, and it left something in my chest feeling just as exposed. Then he nodded once, slowly, and stayed exactly where he was.
He didn't lean closer. He didn't touch me. He kept his hands in place, but his fingers tightened little by little around the fabric of his jeans. It struck me suddenly that he was giving me every possible chance to change my mind without embarrassment, holding himself carefully in place because he knew this mattered.
''Of course. You’re in charge here,'' he said quietly.
I swallowed once before crossing the small distance separating us. My pulse was beating hard enough that I could feel it in my throat, but Bramwell remained exactly where he was, watching me with impossible patience as I stopped in front of him.
Then, slowly enough to stop if I needed to, I leaned up and pressed my mouth gently against his.
The kiss barely lasted more than a second. When I pulled back slightly, Bramwell still hadn't moved. His eyes stayed fixed on my face, but something unreadable flickered suddenly across his expression, a brief hesitation that looked dangerously close to uncertainty.
Heat rushed painfully into my chest as embarrassment crashed in. My stomach dropped hard enough to make me physically step backward.
"Oh," I said quickly, mortified already. "Sorry. I —"
"April."
Bramwell reached for me immediately, his hand closing gently around my wrist before I could retreat completely.
"No," he said, looking genuinely distressed now. "No, sweetheart, that is absolutely not what just happened
I looked at him uncertainly while he stared back at me. "What I was thinking about was the catastrophic amount of garlic I consumed during dinner."
I blinked once.
Bramwell ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely upset now. "I suddenly realized this was your first kiss with me and became deeply aware that I did not brush my teeth beforehand like a civilized adult."
For a second I could only stare at him. Then a startled laugh escaped me before I could stop it. The relief that crossed his face was immediate and almost embarrassing in its intensity.
"I'm serious," he insisted, still holding my wrist carefully. "This feels like the kind of detail people remember forever.''
Another laugh slipped out, quieter this time, and the nervous tightness inside my chest loosened almost instantly. Bramwell looked visibly calmer the moment I smiled. I shook my head, still smiling despite myself, and stepped closer again. This time Bramwell's hand slid carefully from my wrist to my waist, slow enough that I could pull away if I wanted to.
I didn't.
So I leaned up once more and kissed him again, softer now, unable to stop the faint smile pulling at my mouth when I caught the lingering taste of wine, cinnamon, and unfortunately for him, an objectively impressive amount of garlic.
Bramwell made the quietest wounded sound against my mouth the second he realized I was amused. I laughed softly again, and this time when I kissed him, Bramwell finally kissed me back fully but no longer holding himself frozen in place.
His hand rested lightly against my waist while the other moved cautiously to my jaw, touching me like something precious he still couldn't entirely believe he was allowed to have. The tenderness of it ached somewhere deep inside me.
When we finally pulled apart, Bramwell closed his eyes briefly and exhaled a slow, slightly shaky breath.
"I don't want to alarm you," he said faintly, "but I think part of my soul just sat down."
*******
Over the following months, things between us changed quietly. I found myself speaking more and more around him, my voice returning in fragments so gradual I could never identify the exact moment affection stopped feeling frightening and started feeling inevitable.
At first it was small things.
Bramwell reaching for my hand automatically while we crossed sunlit streets warm from the spring afternoon. My knee settling against his during movies until, without even thinking about it, he would pull the blanket over both of us as though it had always belonged there. The absentminded way his thumb moved slowly across my knuckles whenever we sat together somewhere quiet, open windows letting in soft evening air scented faintly with rain and blooming trees.
Every new thing became familiar through repetition instead of pressure.
