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“Nah. But Jude made it home from his overnight trip. And Coco was able to rest while we had the girls. I think they are tag teaming it today.”
“Coco’s lucky to have you.”
We pause in the kitchen, facing one another, and I clutch Levi’s hand to my abdomen.
His Adam's apple bobs with a swallow and he breaks eye contact with me. “Um. I have something for you.”
“You do?” My lips perk upward in a grin.
“Yeah.” He walks over to the kitchen counter and rips a white sheet of notebook paper from a pad. He holds it out to me—without moving any closer.
Maybe I could reach my hand out and snag the thing, but I don’t. I walk over to the counter where Levi stands, putting only a foot of space between us, and lean against the counter. He moves his offering right in front of me and I take hold of the paper.
I peer down at what he’s written there, then blink back up at him. “My list?”
He presses his lips together, his eyes glued to mine. “Ah, yeah. I couldn’t find your original one. It must have blown away after you tore it in half. But I think it’s important that you finish.”
I peer down at the paper. “How?” I say, but I don’t finish my sentence. He’s got all twenty-three, and in order—the correct order. He even has dates written next to the ones we completed together.
He taps a finger to the paper I hold. “I don’t know when you’ve done everything. When you bought your cell, cut your hair, went to the theater, and pierced your ears, but I did remember the day you tried coffee for the first time.”
“You mean, the day I spilled my coffee all over you?”
He smirks, almost nervous. “Yeah. That day.”
He remembers the date? I don’t. I guess I do now—it’s here, in Levi’s script.
I swallow and crease the paper into three neat folds, slipping it into the pocket of my dress. “Thank you.” I move a little closer, combing a lock of my chin-length hair behind one ear.
“Sure.”
I slide, so that I stand between him and the kitchen counter. “I’ve missed you. We haven’t talked and—” I shake my head, unsure how to voice the rest of my thoughts. I wish Uncle Bob were here to craft the perfect sentence—to say exactly what I’m feeling.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I tip my head up, locking my gaze on his, giving him permission to kiss me. When he doesn’t move, I do. I am not afraid to make the first move.
So, I wrap one arm around his neck. I want his kiss, his touch, to taste the sweetness of his lips. I need Levi like a tobacco addict needs their nicotine patch.
One of his hands presses to my back and his beating heart thumps, speaking to mine. I press up on my toes and pull him to me, finding his lips as if he were the north end of a magnet to my south end. He cradles my head, his lips teasing mine open.
In that moment, I’m pretty sure I was made to kiss Levi Bailey. It’s what the great creator had in mind when he made me. Some people will be doctors, some will change the world with words, and some are meant to teach.
But me? While I hope to accomplish something important one day. I’m pretty sure that the grand thing I’ve always been meant for is Levi’s arms.
“Mer,” he says, his lips still on mine, a tremble in his voice.
I peck his lips once more in reply.
But he only puts another centimeter of space between those attracting magnets. His hand slips from the back of my head to my cheek. I don’t release him from my gaze, but he shuts his eyes tight, then hangs his head back, blowing out a sigh.
“Levi?”
His chest puffs and he exhales as he straightens and peers back at me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean you can’t do this?”
“This,” he says, his hand falling to his side, leaving my face cold and lonely. He points from him to me. “We can't do this.”
