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“What else do you dream about, Lark?” The sun hasn’t even set, but I’m feeling a little tipsy.
I have a feeling it’s more the company than the whiskey. “Sharing my life with someone special. How about you?”
He exhales, the warmth of his eyes coating me. “Do you still believe in destiny?”
My breathing deepens, and I take a sip to distract myself from how he affects me. “I still believe.”
“I met my soul mate at twenty-two,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “If I were to ever share my life again, it will only be with you.”
I’ve become acquainted with the racing of my heart around him, but this time, it halts entirely. He closes the distance between us, setting his drink on the table, coming so near when he dips his head toward my ear. Sliding his arm around my waist, he whispers, “No apartment, city, or place could ever replace the home I found in you.” Then he adds, “Breathe, baby.”
I suck in a breath just as he leans back. Our bodies are still pressed together, his arm still holding me tight. We tilt our heads enough to see each other’s eyes. I’m breathing, but barely as he steals it all over again. I whisper, “What do we do about that?”
He smirks and gives me a wink. “Fuck fate and make our own rules from now on.”
I kiss him before he has the chance to kiss me. Wrapping my arms around his neck like a life preserver, I hold on to him like anger once held on to me. Unrelenting. I kiss him until our bodies mold together and our tongues touch, and then begin a slow and seductive tango.
The stove is turned off, and clothes fall to the floor as we pass the TV during the third inning and work our way into the bedroom. We kiss in a frenzy of hands and knees, legs and arms—feeling, connecting, admiring—falling to the bed and back into each other.
We make love with the shades wide open and no covers to hide any part of us. He stares into my eyes the first time he pushes in and dips his head when fully seated. A pause as if he can’t catch his breath extends, and then he lifts, pushing my hair back from my face. “I never stopped loving you, Lark.”
His words sink into my heart, and I feel their raw honesty. It’s then that I also realize that no matter how much I thought I hated him, I only felt that strongly because I loved him so much. I still do. So much. “I love you,” I reply, not worried about saying it first or too soon. I tell him how I feel, refusing to waste any more time on grudges and missed opportunities. I won’t give air to the pains of the past and mistakes we both made. I caress his face and kiss him. “I love you, Harbor. I always will.”
* * *
Happiness is writtenall over Harbor’s face.
A grin so genuine that it makes my heart ache in the best of ways.
His eyes are bright and wide on the game, but he’s stealing glimpses of me like he can’t believe I’m here.
And his hand has kept a constant connection with me since we sat down on the couch.
Cozy in a pair of his boxer shorts and an old Beacon U T-shirt, my legs are cuddled under the blanket as I take the last bite of pasta. “That recipe will get you laid,” I say, only partly teasing.
He chuckles, rubbing my leg. “Good to know.”
We’ve spent years apart, but it doesn’t feel that way. I feel twenty-one with him again, our whole lives still ahead of us. I’m grateful we rediscovered our love when we did.
When a commercial comes on, I finally tackle the issue on the tip of my tongue all night. “Did you pay for my medical school?”
“What?” His brows pinch, and he does a double take. “Who told you that?”
“Why do you think someone told me that? Does it matter? Is it true?” His eyes shift away from me, but this time, I crawl across the couch and plant myself on his lap. With my arms around him, I kiss him once again, and then say, “Your parents paid, but I know you made it happen. Safe Haven Trust . . .” I watch his reaction as guilt settles into his eyes. “Harbor.Very clever, by the way.”
His hand slides over my hip, holding me as if we spend every night like this, like time had no hold on us at all. He whispers, “How long have you known?”
“A few days.” I glance at his lips, a sudden wave of comfort washing over me, and the urge to kiss him growing again. “I don’t know how you pulled that off, Harbor, but for my own peace of mind, will you tell me how you did it?”
The game comes on again, but he mutes it. Rubbing circles over my hip, he says, “I asked my parents to give you the money they had set aside for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with the thought of you not achieving your dream.”
“But you traded your future for mine. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“That’s why I left.” He slides his hand up my arm and over my shoulder, coming to rest on the side of my neck. “You would have never let me.”
