Page 53 of Before I Lost You

A few minutes go by before I hear the shower running, and Ken opens the door with a smile, crooking his finger at me, so I go to him. I grin back at him, getting up and throwing the rag in the hamper before getting in the shower with him. The water is hotter than I usually like, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me under the spray with him. The way he’s looking at me makes me forget about how burning hot it feels against my skin; instead, I focus on how happy he looks. The way his eyes sparkle as he gazes into my eyes, the way his hand trails up my arm, and then to the back of my neck, pulling me into him.

Our lips meet gently, hardly a whisper, and though it’s barely a ripple in the water of a placid lake, it feels like a giant wave that’s bound to drown me. The feeling of his body against mine as he deepens the kiss has me unraveling with each and every stroke of his tongue, and not in a physical way. It’s my heart—he’s gripped it in his fist and isn’t letting go. It feels like my chest is getting crushed with the magnitude of my love for him, and I can’t help but beg god, the universe, and any deity that exists to please never let him walk out of my life. Not him. Never him.

My fingers grip the strands of his hair tightly, my other arm wrapping around him and pressing him even closer to me. His hands cup my face roughly as he devours my mouth, and Ifeel light-headed with all the emotions swirling through me. It’s overwhelming, the way he makes me, and I’m left reeling when he finally pulls away. He doesn’t go far, though, just grabs the shampoo and pours some onto his hand, then makes suds. I turn around dutifully, knowing this is what he wants, and he massages my scalp as he washes my hair. I hum happily, loving the way his fingers flex against my scalp, and then he pushes me under the water spray so I can rinse it off.

I turn around just in time to see him waiting for me, looking over his shoulder with a smile. I return the gesture, washing his hair, then grabbing the body wash and soaping the rest of him up. He takes longer to rinse off, and I take advantage of that time so I can finish cleaning myself too. Once we’re all done, we dry ourselves thoroughly and exit the bathroom. I watch as he goes to his side of the bed and grabs a bag, dumping the contents onto the bed. He produces two pairs of matching pajamas, and I grin.

“Is that your plan for today?” I ask him, my grin not wavering for a second. It feels like I can’t stop smiling; I’m so fucking happy. That he’s here. That he’s in my life. That I can call him mine.

“I figured we can stay in today.” Kenneth shrugs. “Hang out in our pajamas, watch movies, and order takeout.”

“Sounds perfect,” I admit. “I’m too old to party anyway.”

Ken laughs. “But I figured we’d do things a little differently than what you’re probably used to.”

“How’s that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, and he throws my pajamas to me. I catch them, putting them on, while he does the same.

“I’d like to start a new tradition.” He shrugs sheepishly, as if doubting I’d be up for it. Doesn’t he know I’d do anything he asked of me? “Something my mom and I have always done.”

I gesture for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, I add, “Well, go on, Kenny. The suspense is killing me.”

Kenneth smirks. “Fine.” His cheeks pinken slightly, and then he’s walking past me and out of the room. I frown, following after him, just to find him standing at his kitchen island with a black folder in his hand. He sets it on the counter and looks at me with a small smile. “The tradition is—cake for breakfast and then opening your present right after.”

My eyebrows rise. “You eat cake for breakfast on your birthday?”

“Duh.” He grins. “It gets the best part out of the way, and then we can relax the rest of the day.”

I smirk and shake my head. “That does sound like you, actually.”

“You in?”

“Yes, Kenny.” I sigh dramatically. “Sing me happy birthday and feed me cake.”

He grins, then tells me to turn around. I do so dutifully, closing my eyes for good measure, even though I’m not facing him. There’s some rummaging in the background. The opening of the fridge, drawers, then the spark of a lighter. The fact that he’s doing all of this for me makes me smile. That he got me a cake in the first place, that he’s singing me happy birthday.

“Turn around,” Kenneth says softly, and I exhale roughly, doing as he says.

What I find is something straight out of my dreams. He’s standing with his hand outstretched, and I go to him, taking it. There’s a chocolate cake on the counter right in front of us—my favorite. It says ‘Happy Birthday, Connie Love’, with a border of chocolate-covered strawberries and frosting at the bottom. My eyes sting as I blink rapidly, and he turns me towards him and starts singing Happy Birthday—loudly and with feeling. And it hits me. This is the only way one should be celebrated.

I watch his fingers dip into the frosting, and then he’s smearing it onto my nose and lips before I can think to backup. He belts out the last ‘happy birthday to you,’ throwing his head back and laughing, and I can’t help but join in, then grab his waist and drag him towards me. He grips my face tightly and licks the frosting off my nose, making me squirm and giggle, and then kisses the frosting from my lips. I’m not sure how long we stand in the kitchen making out, but it’s long enough that my legs feel weak and my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest. Kenneth pulls away first, then looks at the cake with wide eyes.

“Quick!” he groans, twisting my body towards the cake. The candles are melting, the wax dripping down them, and Kenneth looks like he’s going to lose his shit. “Make a wish before it’s too late!”

I close my eyes, but my mind is blank. I can’t really think of anything now that he put me on the spot, and I frown.

“Hurry up, Connie,” Kenneth urges. “The first thing that comes to mind, and go!”

“I wish—” I start, but he interrupts.

“Not out loud, baby, or it won’t come true.”

I smile softly, then think—I wish to marry Kenneth. To be in his life forever. That no matter the circumstances or how many lifetimes it takes, we’ll always be bound to each other.

Opening my eyes, I blow out the candles. I watch as the smoke wafts up, and then Ken is tugging me towards him and kissing me again. My toes curl at the feeling of his lips against mine, and when he pushes me away with one firm hand on my chest, I grin.

“Best birthday ever,” I breathe.

“You haven’t even opened your presents.” He rolls his eyes, then pushes the folder towards me. “Here you go.”