“Is that the official diagnosis, Doctor?”
He chuckles. “I think you’ll live, but we might have to amputate if you keep bleeding like this.” The water runs clear, bringing a smile to his face. “Saved in the nick of time.” Bringing the wound that I can’t even see to his mouth, he kisses it.
Playing along, I wiggle my finger. “It feels better already.”
His gaze shifts to mine. “Glad I could save the digit.”
I laugh. “Oh geez, I think I’ve created a monster.”
He grabs a towel and gently dries my hand before wrapping it around it tightly. “Hold it up, like this.” When his eyes return to mine, he’s still holding my wrist and asks, “Do you trust me, Spark?” The question mirrors one I asked him earlier.
“With my life.” My response comes just as swiftly as his did.
Caressing my cheek, he runs his thumb over the apple of it several times, then kisses my temple. “Good.” Shifting me by thewaist to the side of the sink, he adds, “You take care of your hand. I’ll clean the glass up.”
My heart clenches between each heavy thump in my chest. The secrets I thought I could never confess out loud rush through my veins, ready to escape. As trust builds between us, I don’t want to dance around my feelings or hide them from him. Keats makes me want to be who I am and inspires me to have the courage to do so. I lean against the counter, gripping it with my free hand behind me. “Do you want to know what I fear most?”
“Snakes? God, I hate snakes.” He glances at me with a boyish grin. Why does he have to make it so hard to look away from him? “I was joking. Well, not about the snakes but—ugh, I’m fucking up here. Save me, Spark.”
“You’re not fucking up at all.” My voice is so quiet that he looks at me. “Quite the opposite.”
With a handful of glass, he briefly glances at me. “I want to know everything about you.” And there’s that charm again, dragging me into his light.
His honesty is a habit I could get used to. I open the cabinet for the trash, swallowing hard as I struggle to find his flaws. Taking a deep breath, I say it before I can stop myself. “I fear living my life like a trinket on display in someone’s old French vitrine. I don’t want to be tucked away like a trophy and forgotten. The loneliness would be too much.”
He dusts his hands and then stands up in front of me. His towering frame isn’t intimidating, but I don’t like that the line between his brows has deepened. His mouth is harder with his lips pressed together. He glances down at the trash can between us, and that’s when I notice the tic of his jaw. Did I screw up by saying too much? Too soon? Should I have kept my mouth shut?
He brings me into the fold of his arms. With his head bent to rest on the top of mine, he says, “I’ll never let that happen.” I close my eyes, resting my cheek against his chest as I slide myarms around him, and soak up the kiss he presses to the top of my head. “Never. Okay?”
My soul clings to his words, but there’s no desperation in it. I believe him. Breathing is easier, and I grin, though he can’t see it. “I hate snakes, too.”
He chuckles and leans back to look me in my eyes. Cupping my face, he says, “I knew I liked you.” Simple words, but they hold so much meaning.
I playfully push off and ask, “How far are we from your place?”
“Too far to walk in this weather.” He looks toward the window and notes, “It’s snowing.”
“We should get going before we get stuck here.” I walk to the chair and grab my phone from the pocket of my coat. “I’ll call a car.” Even if it was nice out, the man worked a long shift earlier. I’m surprised he’s still upright. “What’s the address?”
I enter it into the app when he says it, and I return to the fridge to grab the packaged charcuterie board sitting inside and the bottle of open champagne in the other. Keats watches me, and though I can see the questions written in his expression, I don’t make him ask. I say, “He was planning for the company.”
“Will he be mad if it’s gone?” The concern is sweet, but I’m past worrying about the consequences.
“I don’t care anymore.”
“Alright, then.” He brings my coat and helps put it on. I’m even zipped up nice and snug before we leave this apartment behind. I look back once, feeling this might be the last time I ever come here.
The car waits at the curb when we push through the door and onto the street. I have the tray, and he carries the bottle, though once we’re tucked inside the back seat, I take a sip, apparently not caring about much anymore. Maybe I’ve finally reached some limit I didn’t know I had. Or maybe it’s being with himthat has me seeing a new side of life—one where I can be happy even if guardrails keep me in line. If destiny exists, our future is already determined.
With the tray in my lap, he takes my hand and holds it on top of his leg. His smile is wider than I’ve seen it, encouraging me to ask, “Why are you so happy?”
“I get to spend time with you.” His grip is firm and caring, leaving no doubt that this is right between us. Bringing my hand to his mouth, he kisses it before settling it back on his lap. I can’t stop staring even when he looks away.
Charming.
Smart.
Makes me laugh.My cheeks have ached from smiling so much around him.
