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“Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?”
“Of course I meant it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
I reach out and pull her to me, taking a second to memorize every freckle on her face, every emotion in her beautiful green eyes. I take her face in my hands, and gently press my lips to hers. Her hands grip my forearms, and she sighs softly into me. I taste the bittersweet flavor of the coffee we had on the way, and the caramel candies she was eating.
I never get tired of kissing her. I never get tired of the feel of her in my arms. Because this is everything. She is everything. There are no words for what she is to me, for how she makes me feel. So this kiss will have to tell her what I can’t yet.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Chapter Forty-Three
Lucy
Iwakeupina bed that is both unfamiliar and familiar. I sit up and stretch, slowly remembering the night before.
Wyatt and I were watching a movie on the couch before I got so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open. I remember him carrying me up to bed, tucking me in, and gently kissing my forehead goodnight. I remember him whispering something, but I was too tired to make out the words.
I get up and walk to the bathroom quietly, brushing my teeth and quickly French-braiding my hair. I pull on my favorite black leggings, a long-sleeve Southport T-shirt, and grab a tan cardigan. I walk downstairs and see Wyatt out the window, leaning against the deck. We didn’t go to the store last night, so we have no food or coffee, and I hear my stomach growling.
I step outside and pull my cardigan tight around me as I walk up and bump my shoulder against Wyatt’s.
“It’s cold,” I say.
“You don’t say.” Wyatt laughs.
He pulls me in front of him, wrapping both arms around my waist and resting his chin on top of my head. I never paid much attention to our height difference, except moments like this. I sigh happily and snuggle back into him.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” I nod.
“What do you want to do today, sunshine?”
“Hmm, I don’t know yet. I know I want breakfast though.”
He laughs and kisses the top of my head. “I can probably make that happen. Although, you’ll have to tell me where to go.”
“I can do that.” I nod.
Twenty minutes later we walk into Local’s Family Diner. It’s nine o’clock on Tuesday morning during the off season, so we have our pick of tables. The waitress is an elderly woman, and she smiles warmly at us as she takes our order.
“So, we’re getting breakfast. What are we doing next?” Wyatt asks.
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. My book is scheduled for publication tomorrow, and I have a little reminder on my phone to do a social media post about it.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, biting lip. “Everything’s fine. My book is supposed to go on sale tomorrow, and I’ve been doing a little countdown thing on Instagram. I need to do one today, but I haven’t made it yet.”
“You’ve been doing quotes from the book, right?” Wyatt rests his chin in the palm of his hand.
“I have.” I smile.
Every post I make, Wyatt is almost always the very first one to like and comment. And I love him a little more for it.
