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We’d set up a streaming playlist to swap favorite songs, and a shared a list of our favorite books.
I was learning more about him every day, and loving each new fact.
Six weeks after I’d come home, I missed him more than ever.
I missed him when I woke up and when I went to bed.
I love you,I almost texted him, every day.But he deserved to hear it in person the first time.
When I wasn’t baking, or on the phone to Rick, I tried to plan out what my business would look like in Redwing Falls.I dithered about discussing it with Jess.Would she think I wanted to muscle in on her turf?Could I somehow make cakes to order and supportCake Away?
I also reached out to all the American vloggers I knew, telling them I’d fallen for an American and was looking for tips on moving my cake business across the ocean.They had some interesting ideas, and I had a lot to chew over.
It was so much; it was overwhelming.
But if it meant being with Rick, then I’d do it.
He booked a plane ticket for September, so he’d be here during the Autumn Festival.I was eager for him to try a mooncake and to see the annual lion dance in London’s Chinatown.
The day before he arrived, I received an email that meant I needed to do some serious thinking about my—our—future.
* * *
An Autumn breeze crisped the air the day I met Rick at Heathrow, my gaze eating up his long, lean form as he tugged along his suitcase and held his coat.When our eyes met, I started running, dodging people, and launched myself at his tall, broad frame when I got close enough.
Rick dropped his coat and caught me in mid-air, burying his face in my hair, and I just breathed him in.
He smelled of sawdust and clean soap and fresh air, somehow, even after hours on a plane.
I love you,I thought.
We hugged for long heartbeats.
He felt so good.
“Flights okay?”I eventually asked.
“They were just fine, darlin’.Half-watched a film.Ate some plastic food,” he replied, without letting me go.
We held each other for a little longer, and I wished we could just portal into my flat without breaking our embrace.He washere,and I didn’t want to let him go for even a second.
We took the tube home to my shoebox flat, holding hands all the way.Every fiber of me felt awake and alive, urgent with the need to dissolve all the barriers of space and clothing between us.
He was on me the moment I closed the door.He set aside his suitcase and covered my body with his, pressing me up against the back of the front door, and I reached for him.
His mouth was hot and eager on mine as he settled his hands under me and boosted me up, so my legs wrapped around his waist, his erection hot and hard against me even through our clothes.He bit off my name as he rutted into me like that, and I held on as tight as I could, pressing our mouths together and drinking the taste of him in.
Eventually, dry humping wasn’t enough, and he scooped me up in his arms, carrying me to the futon which served as my bed and sofa.
We made love and napped and cuddled for the next four hours.For every moment, I savored his nearness.
That evening, I took him into Chinatown.I had set my website to holiday mode for the duration of his stay, wanting to make the most of our time together.
The Chinese Association of London always arranged a lion dance for the Autumn Festival and Lunar New Year.I tried to see it when I could.
Huddled together in a busy, crowded street, squished between revelers, some of whom carried paper lanterns or dragons on wooden sticks, Rick and I let them ferry us along.Overhead, fireworks had already started.Fairy lights were strung up between telegraph poles, casting a glow on the rows and rows of red and gold paper lanterns on display overhead.
I reached for Rick’s hand and he squeezed mine, grinning down at me.
