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“Bex,” I say helplessly. Fuck, she’s so pretty it makes my chest ache. Those beautiful brown eyes look at me in my dreams, and every day I wake up grateful I get to see them for real.
“I love you,” she whispers, so quietly I think for a moment I imagined it.
But she keeps looking up at me with confidence shining in her eyes, and I know she really said it.
“Fuck, I love you.” I gather her up into a hug, fisting my hand in her hair. She digs her nails into my back. We stay like that for a long moment, breathing each other in. When I pull away, she has a tear tracking down her cheek. I brush it aside tenderly and kiss her.
“Show me how much,” she says. “Please, James. Show me.”
She peels her shirt off and flings it aside, shivering immediately. I pull her up the bed, settling us underneath the covers. I can’t stop kissing her; every time my lips brush her skin, she whispers encouragement.
I love you.The words are on a loop in my mind and on my lips as we move against each other.I love you. I love you.I say it so many times I get breathless. She’s laughing against my neck, smiling as she kisses me, moving with me in the cool quiet of my bedroom. I’m distantly aware that we’re not the only two people around; that even though it feels like it, we’re not alone in the world. But in this moment, it absolutely does. I’m in the house I grew up in, surrounded by the family I would protect with my life, but never has it felt so real and perfect and likehome. Not until now. Not until Beckett.
If I could only pick one person to be around, one person to know, one person to love, for the rest of my life—I’d choose her.
We’re still pressed tightly together when I hear her breathing begin to even out. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I slip out of her. She turns into my chest, yawning, nestling her head against me.
No, we’re not alone in the world, but right now, underneath the covers—it does feel like we’re in a world of our own.
“One day I will tell our kids that,” I whisper. My heartbeat quickens at the thought. “Because I’m yours, forever.”
Chapter 35
Bex
It turns out that Christmas morning is a lot more fun when you’re in a houseful of people, and when the guy by your side told you he loves you... and that he’s yours. I think James thought I was asleep last night for that part, but I caught it in between waking and dreaming. I’ve spent the morning curled up on the couch with him, watching his family unwrap presents while instrumental Christmas music plays in the background, and between the teasing and laughter, I haven’t stopped smiling. James’s siblings surprised me with a very thoughtful mini tripod and a book of Annie Leibovitz’s photography. James loved the monogrammed leather duffel I got him; I texted Laura immediately to thank her for helping me pick it out.
James presses a little blue box into my hands. “Here, princess.”
I look up at him, blushing like I do every time other people are around to hear the nickname. He has a gleam in his eyes that instantly makes me wary that he spent too much money on me. I recognize the particular shade of blue; I doubt there’s a woman in America who wouldn’t. When I open the box, a pair of cheesy football-shaped earrings fall into my lap. Which is adorable, but I’m too focused on the gorgeous pair of diamond hoops nestled into the velvet underneath.
“James, this is... this is too much.”
“Do you love them?”
I nod, touching one of the hoops with my fingernail. It’s so delicate. Pretty and perfect—just big enough to show off, but not too flashy. I don’t even want to think about how much he spent on them, especially after the camera.
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“You’re too sweet.” I lift one of the hoops from the velvet and put it on. “Did you help him pick them out, Izzy?”
“Nope,” she says. “That was all him. He disappeared into Tiffany’s for like, an hour.OnIzzy Day.”
I kiss his cheek as I put on the other one. “Thank you. Although this means you don’t need to buy me another present possibly ever.”
My phone buzzes in my lap. I pick it up distractedly; I tried calling my mother earlier to wish her Merry Christmas, and she didn’t pick up. “Hey, Mom, Merry Christ—”
“Bexy. I knew you’d pick up.”
Darryl’s voice stops me cold. I get up, murmuring an apology to James, his family, the room at large—I don’t know. I can barely swallow. My heart is in my throat.
“Yeah, their house is beautiful,” I say loudly, so James won’t follow. “James got me the prettiest pair of earrings; I’ll text you a picture.”
Somehow, I make it to the bathroom. I lock the door and slump against it. “Darryl. What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re with him?” He snorts. “Should have guessed. You’re still riding his dick for all it’s worth.”
“What do you want?”
