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"I love you more." I give him my usual response.
My heart beats wildly as an array of emotions fill me. Sometimes it scares me how much I love James. Occasionally I'll wake up in the middle of the night sweating, panicking in my sleep that I won't have enough time to love him.
"What's wrong?"
I shake my head. I don't want to tell him my thoughts, even though it's something I think about a lot. I love this man more than I love my own life, and I can't imagine a world without him. A world where I don't get to love him the way I want to. The way he needs to be loved.
"Nothing. I'm just really happy I get the man I love all to myself for the next few days. It’s just you and me, babe."
He's quiet for a moment. His fingers are brushing over my jaw and I lean into his hand. "I've been wanting to ask you something."
I smile into his palm. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"How would you feel if I sold my brownstone and we bought a house together? Say, in Bergan Beach?"
I pick my head up and look at him, my brows drawing tight. Within six months after we got back together, I moved to Brooklyn Heights to be with him. We’d spent two years apart and didn't want to waste any more time than we already had. It only made sense since we were at each other's home every night anyway. He offered to come live with me, but I knew being in Brooklyn was better for him, so I’d packed up the cats and moved in with him.
I kept my grammy’s house, though. I can't bear to let it go, but I hate to see it empty too, so I use it now as a transitional home for those in my shelter who've taken the steps to get on their feet. There's no charge for rent, just utilities. They have to start somewhere. Living in New York is extremely expensive—one of the priciest places to live in the world—and I want to give these women a chance they deserve. There are strict rules they have to follow, along with monthly check-ins, but I know my grammy would've loved it and that makes me feel good inside.
My brows deepen. "Can I ask why?"
"I picked that place out, had a decorator come in and spice it up. We didn't pick anything out together, and I want something we both love that's only ours." His tongue slips out over his bottom lip, like he's hesitating. "I want us to have a place to call our own, where we can continue creating more moments. I want everything with you, Aubrey. A marriage, a home. I'm in this for life, sweetheart, and I'm ready to take the next step with you."
Three
My eyes soften at his words.
I didn't think it was possible for my heart to grow any bigger with love for this man, but clearly I was wrong. I'm smiling from ear to ear so hard my blushed cheeks are aching.
"James Riviera, how are you the sweetest man in the world?"
Creases form between his eyes and the muscles in his body stiffen. That isn't something I expected.
"I'm serious, Aubrey. You're my life and I love you. I want us to be more, and I think buying a new home that's ours is a step in the right direction."
I giggle from how adorable he is. I can't help it. Sometimes men are so dumb it's painful. James is getting worked up for no reason.
"Babe?"
He doesn't respond. James is lost in his stare and I giggle again at how hard he's thinking. He can't possibly think I feel any less for him, right?
Sliding my leg higher on him, I hook his thigh with mine and twine our limbs together. My palms skim over his heavenly chest, then to his arm where he had a map of the world tattooed when we got back together. It was expertly done with a fine needle and black ink, and spans from the top of his shoulder down to his wrist.
He documents all our moments that are important to us. Every single place he's taken me that’s brought us closer together, he’s had inked onto his body forever. I still remember the day he came home with his arm bandaged in white gauze and plastic wrap. He hadn't told me he was getting it done and wanted to surprise me. Surprise was an understatement. James permanently inked the arm he was saving for only us. I've been wanting to surprise him with a tattoo of my own, I just haven't figured out what I want to do yet. I want it to mean something to the both of us the way his do.
I pick up his wrist and kiss the place where his pulse is. I gaze at it with softness, then thread his fingers with mine. My thumb caresses my favorite inked moment by far—the day he told me he loved me for the first time. We weren't anywhere romantic, or had a special trip planned. In fact, we were right in the middle of Manhattan getting Chinese food in the dead heat one summer evening when he said it. Our order hadn't been ready for pick up yet, so we'd been standing on the busy street with his back to the wall and me in his arms taking in the perfect Instagram-worthy sunset. The fiery amber ball burned between the skyscrapers as it descended, illuminating the buildings with a breathtaking glow. This wasn't just an ordinary sunset anyone could see as they walked through the concrete jungle. I'd remarked on how incredible it was and that I'd never seen the sun between the buildings like that before, how it made one appreciative of how beautiful life really is. James told me it was actually Manhattanhenge, and it's when the sun aligns with the city's street grid to produce—and fit—the perfect setting sun only four days out of the year. It was larger than life, and the heat flowing around the outer rim could be seen when "I love you" came out of James's mouth. It was so natural and just right, and it ended up being the first tattoo he got for us—a sun that overlooks his map. I glance at the sun inked in warm hues of orange and red over his pulse and smile softly at the memories I hold so dear behind it.
My knee nudges his erecting cock. "James, I love that brownstone. I love being there with you, I love walking up the street to our home and taking in the flowery landscape that people don't typically associate with living in the city. If you want to sell it, then we'll sell it and buy a new home. I want what you want. But don't think for one second that it bothers me you had it before I came back into your life." I pause, an idea springing to mind. "What if we get rid of everything your decorator bought, and we go shopping together. We'll create our own little oasis. If you want to redo the whole damn unit and tear everything out, we can do that too, but I'm happy there and I really love it."
His frown deepens. "You do?"
I nod. "I do, but if you'd rather us have a new place, we can do that too," I say, then something dawns on me. My head tilts to the side and I ask, "Do you want to sell it because you purchased it during a low point in your marriage and it reminds you of that?"
James has been divorced for four years now, but he spent more than twenty years in a somewhat unhappy and unwanted marriage. Now I can see why he's considering selling it.
"A little bit."
A soft smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Then we're selling it. End of discussion. When we get home, it's going on the market immediately. But, James?"
