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His words spurred me, and I clutched at his hip as my orgasm rocketed through me. I came hard and fast, spilling into him. He moaned, and my thrusts slowed, and then I held myself still, savoring the sensation. The tightness of him around me and the slick heat of my release inside him.
Slowly—reluctantly—I withdrew from him, and he rolled over to face me, and then he was back in my arms, and I felt the dam finally begin to crack.
“What is it?” Ambri asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought I lost you. Twice.” I struggled to hold the tears back. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said thickly. “No one’s ever cried over me.”
I held him tight to me, my lips against his warm skin. “I swear, I’m going to take care of you. No one is ever going to fucking hurt you like that again.”
And I didn’t know if I meant his uncle or the demons. All of them. Anyone.
“We’ll take care of each other,” he said, pulling back to brush the hair from my forehead. “Through richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and all that.”
“Are you proposing?”
“Absolutely not. There will be no proposals without jewelry.”
I sniffed a laugh and dried my eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think there’s much jewelry in our future. According to my calculations, this place is going to be flooded in about a week. We’re going to be homeless.”
“That is concerning,” he said. “Tomorrow we should see if I have any fortune left. I suspect I won’t, but…c’est la vie. So long as I have you.”
We kissed, and I left the bed long enough to clean us up, then climbed back in to wrap him in my arms.
“I’m going to sleep listening to your heart,” Ambri said, resting his head on my chest. “Every night. And every beat will remind me of this second chance I’ve been given. I’m so bloody grateful for you Cole.”
“Me too. Grateful you’re here with me.”
“But…all of your beautiful paintings,” he said sleepily. “You lost everything too.”
I kissed his forehead. “I didn’t lose what matters most.”
The next morning, Ambri and I found a Barclays bank, and he marched up to the teller in my flannel pants and sweatshirt that were both a tad too big for him. His hair was mussed from our nocturnal activities that had resumed after a short nap and lasted all night.
“Yes, good day, I was wondering if this institution still has all of my money.”
I smiled showing all my teeth. “He just got out of the hospital.”
The woman behind the counter gave us both a look. “Name?”
“Ambrosius Edward Meade-Finch.”
Her keyboard clacked and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a record of anyone with that name ever having an account with us. Are you sure you have the right bank?”
Are you sure you’re allowed to be out in public?
“Thank you, ma’am.” I tugged Ambri’s sleeve. “Come on.”
Outside, he frowned. “Well, that’s that. We’re starting from scratch, apparently.”
“We could go back to your place and see if there’s anything left.”
He looked at me sharply. “Last night, I dreamt we did exactly that.”
I stared back. “So did I.”
In the few minutes of sleep between bouts of celebration, I’d dreamed that we were carefully picking our way through charred rubble.
