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“He sounds like he was great.”
“He was,” I tell her.
“My father was great too. He did everything he could to make sure my brother and I had what we needed. He was our world, and we were his.”
“What about your mother?” I ask, deciding to pounce while she’s speaking of the past.
“Amazing,” she says wistfully. “She baked. I loved it when she baked. My father always said if she was a witch, children would willfully jump into the oven just because of how good it always smelled.” She looks up as I arch an eyebrow. “He was a bit of a morbid sense of humor type of guy. But my mother loved it. Loved him. I never understood how rare that love was when I was younger. Like most things you see daily, I took it for granted.”
A sadness touches her eyes, and I slide in closer, brushing my lips over her eyelids, kissing each.
“Where would you go?” I ask her, deciding I don’t want to see her sad.
“Anywhere in the world?” she asks.
“Anywhere.”
“I’d go to Greece with you.”
And this is why I’m so fucking obsessed with her.
My lips find hers again, and I kiss her like it might be the last time. It’s the way I’ll always kiss her, because she’s lost love once—the love of her parents. I never want any lingering insecurities to dwell in her about us.
I want her to know exactly how I feel every time she’s in my arms.
When she breaks the kiss, I try not to slide on top of her and take her again. I was way too damn eager to be inside her when I saw her in a dress. I was just going to scare her, but Hadley screamed; Lana smiled. She always surprises me.
And just like that, I had to have her.
“I want you in Greece with me too,” I tell her, kissing her cheek.
“We’ll get drunk and have entirely too much sex,” she agrees. “And of course eat. There’s always something amazing to eat in Greece. Unless that’s just a false stereotype.”
Grinning, I press my lips to her cheek. “We’ll find out one day.”
Her breath catches, and I pull back, looking into those haunted eyes that pulled me under her spell so long ago.
“What?” I ask, running my finger down her cheek, worried about that look.
She turns toward me a little more. “If you found out I wasn’t this perfect girl you want me to be, would you still love me?”
The way she asks it is like a punch to the gut. “Lana, I don’t expect you to be perfect. I think you are perfect. At least perfect for me.”
Her lip quivers, and she forces a smile. What’d I say wrong?
“But what if I wasn’t perfect?” she asks again, genuinely distressed over this.
“Then I’d love you anyway. I don’t use that word liberally. Well, at least not since high school. But everyone uses it in high school without knowing what it really means to love someone.”
That look in her eyes chills just a little. I’m trying to read her, but she’s always a mystery. Constantly doing one thing when I expect another.
“But yes,” I say again. “I’d love you regardless. In case you haven’t noticed, I go a little crazy when it’s been too long since I’ve seen you, and you give me a reason to want to live instead of just exist. You accepted every piece of me, and dealt with the scraps I could offer. And never complained.”
She starts to speak, but I go on.
“Those eyes find me when you walk into a room, like I’m the only person you’re looking for. You hold your head up when others would cower. You stand tall when others would fold in on themselves. Your strength is beyond amazing. And you always keep me guessing, which is my favorite part about you, as much as it is infuriating.”
She laughs under her breath, and I kiss the corner of her mouth before continuing.
