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Yeah.
He was right..
“All right, fine. So I have big daddy issues. You can hardly blame me.” I finished with a huff. “How did we get from soulmates to this?”
“By me pointing out that your belief in soulmates likely comes from what you experience in your life, and you haven’t really had that much in the way of good examples of it.”
“I don’t know.” I wrinkled my nose up. “Both my sets of grandparents were married until death did they part, and as far as I know, they were happy marriages. Granted, Granny has probably always been bisexual, but it didn’t impact her relationship with Gramps at all.”
“I’d imagine it was better for their generation to be bi than gay,” William replied.
“I do think Granny is happier now that she’s dating Marcie—which, by the way, you can’t say to her. She insists she’s only her friend, but friends don’t snog friends.”
He smirked. “I kissed you twice.”
“We’re not friends.”
“What are we then?”
“I don’t know. Two people thrust together in unfortunate circumstances? Don’t complicate things, William.” I nudged his knee with my foot. “I don’t think Granny was unhappy with Gramps, though. They were married for forty years before he died, and my dad’s parents were together since they were fourteen, and Grandma never dated after he died.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Did she outlive him by much?”
“Twenty-something years.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. She said he was the man she loved, and even though death had parted their physical bodies, she’d promised him her heart, and he still had it, therefore they weren’t parted.”
His lips tugged to one side. “That’s a nice way of thinking about it.”
“Indeed. When Granny heard it, she scoffed and said Gramps might have had her heart, but she also had a clitoris, and he was never very good at finding it. She had needs, and now he was dead, she could fulfil them without hurting his feelings.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, and his shoulders trembled with silent laughter. “How do you take her anywhere serious?”
“I don’t. She can’t be trusted.” I muffled my giggles behind my hand. “It’s where I get it from, although I’m somewhat more controlled in my word vomit than she is.”
“I haven’t heard you word vomit once since you got here.”
“Literally earlier today, at the watchtower, when I yelled at you.”
“I wouldn’t call that word vomit.”
“I would. I was entirely prepared to leave it on the ‘sod off’ and stomp away from you, but my brain kept going.”
He slid up the sofa and grabbed my legs, pulling them over his lap. “And can I say,” he said in a low voice, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “That I’m very glad your brain kept going?”
“No. You may not.”
“Too late.” He dipped his head and kissed my jaw, moving to that little tender spot right by my ear. “I said it.”
“Take it back,” I muttered.
“Absolutely not. How else will I convince you to let me win the bingo game?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, pulling back slightly. “And if you don’t win? Are you trying to change my mind?”
“Yes.”
