“I didn’t know how to live without knowing where in the world you were, either,” she breathed.
I stood there, a little stunned, as her words untangled in my chest. And then when they really hit me, when my pulse doubled in speed and my heart felt like it just might burst, I realized there was too much distance between us. My limbs realized it too, my feet tripping over themselves as I tried to get closer to her.
The result, unfortunately, was me tumbling from my step stool and crashingintothe wall…and Eleanor.
It might not have been that bad—I mean, I couldn’t really complain about the press of her entire body against mine—if itweren’t for the fact that my paintbrush slipped from my hand, too.
And so did my paint.
Which meant Ellie and all her beautiful words, her perfection, her sweetness…were now covered in a coat ofButtermilk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ellie
“FUCK,I’M SORRY.”
Nearly the entire length of Sullivan’s six-foot-five frame pressed against my much shorter one as he caged me against the wall. Which I honestly didn’t mind, but it did mean my entire backside was undoubtedly covered in yellow paint, adding to what was cascading down my arm. Paint that Sully was trying to brush away, as though paint worked like that.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” he repeated, and I glanced up to find his brows pinched together and his blond hair ruffled from his fall. And he lookedsoconcerned that all I could do was tip my head back and laugh.
Sully stopped his fussing, his body stilling.
“El?”
Yes, I was aware that it might look like I was losing it, but I was standing in the London living room, covered in paint. And Sully was here, so close to me, in a position I never thought we’d find ourselves in again.
I never thought I’d find my way back to this, and oh God, I might just behappy. Right now, at this moment, anyway.
Maybe hewasright to pick out this color.
“I’m sorry, I just—” Another laugh hiccuped out of me, andI was finding it hard to catch my breath. “I just never thought I’d be here.”
If sometime in the last five years you’d have told me that one day I’d move into this house and Sully would be living here with me, I wouldn’t have believed you.
I caught a glimpse of Sully’s eyes just as they softened. He took the slightest step back, enough that it meant that we weren’t touching from head to toe, and it was easier to look at each other. But he remained a breath away, and his hands were on my arms, fingers trailing up them, dragging through the paint.
And suddenly, I was shivering. And hot. Perspiration beaded on my forehead, and maybe it had something to do with how I’d been painting these walls like my life depended on it—because it was starting to feel like it kind of did—or maybe Sullivan was the cause—how close he was to me, the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath as it skittered across my pebbled skin.
“I am so very glad that you are here,” he murmured, giving me this glassy sort of look as he trailed a finger through the paint on my arm and then dragged it up my shoulder, across my collarbone.
“Areyou?” I asked, the words falling out of my mouth.
Sully’s finger stopped in its tracks, and his eyes became clear, focusing.
“What?”
He looked stricken, and I shook my head.
Shit.
I’d meant for that, for my doubts, to remain inside my thoughts.
“Nothing.”
“No, El—” I tried to look away, but he caught my chin between two paint-covered fingers. I didn’t care much about that, though. I cared a lot more about the way Sully’s eyes were seeking mine, pleading for…something. “Why did you ask that?”
“I just—” I sighed, and Sully released my chin, his touch sliding down my neck, landing on my pulse. Could he feel howunsteady it was? How unsteadyIwas? “I’m glad to be here, Sawyer. And I’m glad to be with you. But I’ve been wondering lately…if it would have been better for you if I weren’t.”
