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Did she know?
Did she suspect that he was already stupid in love with her?
He was all in.
But if a trip to Saint-Tropez freaked her out, then him telling her he wanted to be with her forever would send her fleeing into the night.
No.
He could wait until she trusted what this was.
Because he wasn’t sure how they’d found each other. Maybe it was complete chance. Maybe it was fate. Maybe he’d finally done something right and the universe had smiled down on him.
But she was it.
She was the missing verse, the perfect rhyme, the steady rhythm to his traveling thoughts.
She had a way of bringing him back to center. Back to himself.
He had no intention of losing her.
* * *
Morning came, and as always, he was surprised.
Time seemed to sneak up on him. The sunrise felt like a rude interruption.
They hadn’t left the couch. Instead choosing to stay close and speak in hushed tones about favorite colors and songs and stories.
Small things.
Intimate things.
And then the sun was there, and Sabine had drifted to sleep in his arms.
He stayed as long as he thought he should, and then he slipped out. Not before leaving a note, though.
His car wasn’t at her loft, so he had to call a service.
By the time he’d returned to his condo, the sun was committed to the day, and he was starving.
Max lifted his eyes over the rim of his coffee cup as Dave stepped through the door.
“Did you make food?” Dave asked, slipping off his shoes and tossing his coat to the side.
Max’s eyes followed the coat’s descent. “You have a closet for that, you know. And yes, I made food.” He came off the stool where he was seated and went to the kitchen, filling a plate for Dave.
Dave picked up his coat and hung it up. Because Max was right. And also, if he didn’t hang it up, Max would keep mentioning it until he did.
He took the plate of food Max handed him and sat down at the counter. Max joined him.
“I’m surprised to see you so early. I thought for sure you’d be having breakfast with Sabine,” Max remarked casually into his coffee cup.
Dave nodded, chewing the mouthful of breakfast sausage. He swallowed, wondering if he could tell Max what was on his mind. Notcould. Did hewantto tell Max. That was a more accurate statement.
On one hand, he told Max everything.
But on the other…he kind of liked having something that was just his for a moment.
