Page 39 of Lucky 22

“Material things are all fine and well, but you’re here withme, giving me the gift of your time. There are probably a dozen other thingsyou could be doing right now. I know how important your career is to you, andevery day is a new opportunity for you to be out auditioning or looking for anew role. But you hit pause on that because you wanted to be here with me.”

The emotion in his tone is raw, and even if he didn’t expandon that thought any further, I know exactly how much my being here means.

Turning his hand in mine, I gently caress it. “I hated thethought of us missing out on the time together almost as much as it bothered meto think of you being here by yourself.”

His lopsided grin is positively charming.

“I wouldn’t have been by myself. There are trainers and—”

“And when you were done with your sessions, you’d be aloneat the hotel,” I finish for him. “Eating by yourself, not having anyone to talkto…” I shrug. “Plus, having all this time for just the two of us with nodistractions is kind of amazing. Back home, we would see each other, but notfor these all-day kinds of dates. We may have only known each other for alittle over a week, but it doesn’t feel that way.”

He nods. “I know. I think I’ve told you more about myselfthan I’ve ever told anyone. The only people who know more about me are myfamily.”

Christian’s family is very close.

A part of me is super excited to meet them, but the otherpart is terrified because I’m a little worried they’ll see me as an outsiderwho isn’t welcome. Although Christian is such an incredible person, I like tothink the rest of the family will be as warm and friendly as he is.

“Then I guess I should say thank you for wanting to share somuch with me,” I say softly. “And believe it or not, it’s the same for me. Ihave a lot of friends, and so much of my life is an open book, but I think I’veshared more about me—the real me—with you than anyone else.”

That seems to please him, because that tender look is back.I swear I could look at him like this forever. His kind eyes, his smile, hishand in mine…

It’s magical.

Tonight’s my last night with him before I head back to LA,and I don’t want it to end. We’re eating at the hotel’s rooftop restaurantagain because it’s so good. There are twinkly lights outside by the bar, thepart that’s actually outside, and once we’re done eating, we head out there fordessert and to enjoy the view.

Not that I wasn’t loving the view inside, but this isequally spectacular.

The night feels suspended, like the city itself has pausedjust long enough for us. Tempe stretches out below, a shimmer of lights andmovement, but up here on the rooftop, everything is still. The music is softand bluesy—the exact tone for my mood.

We sit at a small bistro table with a candlelit centerpiece,and I let out a happy sigh. It doesn’t seem possible for the night, oursurroundings, and pretty much everything to be so perfect, but it is. Ourserver takes our dessert order, and as soon as he’s gone, Christian stands,holding out his hand to me.

“Would you care to dance?”

Is this moment even real? My heart melts. Placingmy hand in his, I nod and get to my feet. “I would love to.”

I fit perfectly in Christian’s arms. It isn’t new anymore,the way he draws me in, but it still makes my heart flutter. His hand rests onmy lower back, his thumb tracing idle circles that send warmth curling throughme. My hand lies flat against his chest, and I feel the quiet rhythm of hisheartbeat beneath the cotton of his shirt. I am the exact height for him tococoon me in his embrace. I could stay here all night long.

“Remember when you said you couldn’t dance?” I softly tease,reminding him of the night of the movie premiere.

His smile curves, slow and sure. “I do, and I still can’t,”he says. “You make me look better than I am.”

The quiet laugh is out before I can stop it, the soundmuffled as he leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. It isn’t rushed. Noneof it is. Over the last several days, we’ve learned how to move together—notjust in rhythm, but also in silence. In understanding.

The twinkly lights overhead cast everything in gold: thecurve of his jaw, the shimmer in his hair, the faint glow caught on everythingaround us. I feel his breath against my cheek, his words barely a whisper.

“I’m going to miss this,” he says. “Miss you.”

My throat tightens. “You’re not allowed to say things likethat when I’m already trying not to melt.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and I can feel it rumble throughhim. “Then I’ll stop talking.” He pulls me closer.

And we sway. No more words, no more teasing. Only the slowpress of his hand low on my back, and the sound of the music blending with thecity noise far below. The world feels wider from up here, yet somehow smaller,too, like it’s narrowed to the space between us. We’re in our own little world,and I want to stay here.

But I know I can’t.

When I finally look up, I find his gaze waiting—steady,familiar, and full of something that both scares and soothes me.

Under the canopy of lights, with Tempe glittering below us,I realize that this, this quiet, effortless closeness, is what falling in lovefeels like.