AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This might not be what I want, but it’s not a rejection and all the tension that’s been driving me falls away and I go limp in his arms. His kiss goes from gentle to demanding in a breath and I rest my hands on his chest. His heart is racing.
He breaks away to growl my name, but when he moves to kiss me again, I place my fingertips against his lips.
“I need to know how you feel,” I whisper, trying to ignore the tremble in my voice.
Nic’s hand falls from my hair to my waist, his head dropping until his forehead presses against mine. “I’m leaving Hollywood,” he says softly. “I’m working on some ideas for what’s next, but I want to be closer to home. I don’t want to skate through life anymore, just letting things happen to me. I want to do the things that make me happy.”
I nod and a tear finally breaks free, rolling down my cheek because maybe this is a rejection and that kiss was goodbye.
“Hey,” Nic says, and suddenly he’s cupping my face, tilting my head up so I have to look at the way twilight has softened his eyes. He brushes the tear away with his thumb. “I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”
The noise that bursts out of my chest is a messy sob-like creature, born of pure relief.
“I love you, Jessie.” His thumbs wipe more tears away. “I always have, even when I didn’t know it, when I took any excuse to fool myself into thinking what I felt was purely physical. I was afraid of what it meant for my place in your family. That I would disappoint you, and them. That I’d have to make choices I wasn’t ready to make. I’m ready for that now. I want a life with you, back in New York. I want you with me as I figure out the rest.”
“Nic,” I move to kiss him, but he turns my head and my lips graze his cheek.
“Let’s go,” Nic says softly.
Chapter thirty-six
Nic
January Eighth
“Iwasamess,”I say, tapping the page with the painting of me curled around Jessie’s stuffed unicorn.
Jessie takes a sip of her coffee and nods. She’s wearing a blanket, sitting on my bed. We’ve only left my room to cook breakfast, and the discarded plates are stacked on the floor. I’m sprawled on my stomach, naked, flipping through the watercolor notebook I gave her five years ago. Every page is a memory of us—some happy, all complicated. Knowing Jessie loves me takes the edge off the harder memories.
“I was going to tell you how I felt when I came up to your room. I thought I had, that you understood me. But when I woke up alone and found you and Camden on the couch, I thought you’d made your choice. I’d lost my chance, and it was time for me to move on.”
Jessie sets her coffee on the bedside table and lies next to me, draping the blanket over us both. “I didn’t understand. Even if you’d told me you loved me, I don’t think I would have believed you.”
“I don’t think I could have said those words. I loved you, but I’d lied to myself for so long. But I couldn’t let you marry him. I’m sorry I caused you pain.”
Jessie flips the page. The next painting is a bunch of mistletoe, and she holds the notebook over my head, leaning in to kiss me. “Our past is a mess,” she says softly, “but our future is looking up.”
With a little growl, I roll her onto her back and climb over her, kissing her neck, kissing her collarbone and her breasts, down her stomach. I don’t come out of the blanket until I’ve brought her to orgasm twice. I have to crawl up to the bedside table to get a condom, and when I sink into her, she sighs happily and wraps her arms around me.
“Is that how you see me?” I ask, flicking my chin to the new painting hanging on my bedroom wall. It’s the self-portrait I asked for, but her face is relaxed in a post-orgasmic glow and I’m there, in the reflection in her eyes. Staring back at her like she’s everything. And she is. My past, present, and future.
Jessie’s head tilts so she can look at it. “You’re all I see.”
I kiss her neck, working my way up to her ear. “I love you.”
Her legs tighten around my hips and she pulls me tight against her. “I love you too.”
We take our time, long and slow and sweet.
The rest of the day passes just like the morning, talking and making love. Jessie tells me about the paintings she sent to an art dealer. I tell her about my ideas for a cooking show. We talk about where we’ll live—her apartment is too small—and future holidays with her family.
In the evening, she re-invites me to the family group chat, and from my phone, we send a picture of the two of us standing in the kitchen, my arm around her as she leans up to kiss me on the cheek. My face hurts from smiling. I’ve never been this happy.
My phone dings almost immediately.
CAN’T WAIT TO OFFICIATE THE WEDDING
Timothy
