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“Before she died, I promised her I was going to marry you. I guaranteed her the fall wedding you talked about, and those babies she didn’t think you had the hips for.”
Leighton takes a step back, looking a little freaked out.
“I’m not asking you to marry me right now, Leighton. I mean, I would, because fuck, I love the hell out of you, but I don’t think you’re ready. I can ease into this, but I want you to know if you take off back to New York, I’m going with you. If you sneak out of here, I’m following.”
“You’re grieving.”
“I am,” I confirm. “But I knew I loved you before she had the heart attack. I promised her before. I called her before you left Georgia. Or before I knew you left because I’m not certain of the exact timeline. I felt like I lost you. I regret walking away from you on Saturday, but I’m not good at reading women emotionally. I don’t have much experience with it. Actually, I have no experience with it. You said it couldn’t happen again after we made love that Saturday, and I had to agree. I thought you didn’t want me. Then I saw the picture.” Both of our eyes drift to it, and I point. “That’s love. Can’t you see it.”
“I see it,” she whispers.
“Lala said grand gestures worked when PopPop fucked up. Words were important. I’m not good with words.”
“You seem to be doing fine right now.”
I chuckle. “That picture was my grand gesture, but you took off before you could see it. Before I could prove how I felt. Before you could see how you felt.”
“I’ve known how I felt for a while,” she says softly, her eyes returning to mine.
“You’re looking at me like you love me in that picture,” I say. “Do you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?” I swallow. “Do you love me?”
She swallows. “So much.”
“Yeah?”
The emotions I managed to get a hold of in the bathroom back at BBS swarm me once again, a sob escaping my throat. I wrap my arms around her, burying my nose in her throat. I hold on to her, feeling the weight of the world lift from my shoulders. That ache I’ve felt for weeks and that weirdness in my chest I could never rid myself of or explain are suddenly gone, and it’s like I can finally breathe normally again.
“Leighton,” I sigh into her hair. “Thank you. Thank you for loving me.”
“It’s one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.”
She holds me tighter, seeming as reluctant to let me go as I am her.
“I’m not taking over my family’s business.”
I pull back from her. “I was serious about going with you. If that’s your dream, I fully support you. I’d never ask you to give something like that up for me.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know what my dreams are now, but that isn’t it. I’m done with it.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods. “Mind if I crash on your couch until I figure things out?”
“No way,” I tell her. “My couch sucks, but there’s a spot in my bed that’s empty.”
She squeals, the happiest sound my condo has ever heard as I scoop her up and carry her through the place to my bedroom.
As anxious as I was to get her here, everything seems to slow down now that our confessions are all out in the open. We’re in no rush. We aren’t working against a clock. There are no timelines or rules. There’s not a clock ticking away or the threat of changed minds. We haven’t made plans, but we do know we love each other and that seems like enough.
We undress each other slowly, our hands wandering, enticing, making promises with fingertips as much as with our lips. We shower together slowly, and I don’t risk breaking the moment by challenging her no shower sex rule. There will be time for that later. I dry her with a towel, and she returns the favor.
Our lips seem glued to each other as we make our way slowly to the bed, hands roaming, mouths making promises of pleasure and of our future together, some naughty, some about the wedding and babies we’ve only teased about before. Each thrill me with equal measure.
Taking an even greater risk, I lean closer to her ear as I cover my body with hers. “I want you bare.”
“I’m yours to take,” she pants, her legs spreading to accommodate the width of my hips.
“Leighton,” I groan with her approval.
This woman is just too much. I don’t know how I lucked out to be the first one to approach her that night at the bar, but I’ll thank my lucky stars every damn day that I was.
“Feel me,” I beg when I slide into her.
“Always,” she whispers, her neck arching back, giving my mouth the perfect spot to suck and nip.
