Yeah, the tears are coming whether I want them to or not, and no amount of batting my eyelashes up and down is going to stop them.
“It didn’t feel wrong?” Taylen asks so hesitantly that his voice is a thin whisper.
“No! It didn’t feel wrong. And I’m sure it was all us, not the curse or what anyone expects. Us.”
“If I said I didn’t want to do this because I was scared of losing you, that I’ll always be afraid of losing you because you’re the best part of my entire world, would that make me a coward? Would I lose you anyway?”
“Yes,” I whisper because I believe in telling the truth. “I think that would be taking the easy way out. But losing me anyway? Never going to happen. No matter how complicated and messy things get, I’ll always be your best friend. Because we’re friends above all, before anything else, and because we have a lifetime of experience to draw on, which is what I think would always make things work. After all, we know each other, inside and out.”
“That’s a frightening way to put things, given what we’re talking about.”
I can literally count on one hand the number of times Taylen has been able to make me scarlet in the past decade because I was used to his sense of humor long before then, and I’ve ceased to be embarrassed, but yeah, I think I’m scarlet now.
No, I know I’m scarlet now.
My knees are also trembling, and my vagina is doing a happy dance, happier than the one we just did together downstairs.
“I’m saying that no matter what, I’ll always stick around. I know you have issues with abandonment after your dad did what he did, and I know you always said you never wanted to get married and have kids. I sometimes said that too, and I sometimes meant it, though sometimes I didn’t. But I’m not talking about marriage or kids. We don’t have to look that far into the future and think about all the complicated things. It’s overwhelming.
“If you never want to get married or have kids, it’s not a deal-breaker for me. I know I’m getting freaking ancient—a shriveled grape, as my parents always point out—no longer suitable to make wine because women don’t age like wine, they age like nasty cheese, but I’m not ready for that either. I just want every single day, one day at a time, as they come. With you, like I’ve always wanted. I just never realized I wanted it that way before.”
Taylen’s jaw clenches as his eyes burn into me. He looks pissed all of a sudden. “Women don’t age like nasty cheese,” he bites out. “I swear I’m going to give your mom a piece of my mind…”
I wave my hand between us. “Don’t fixate on that. It was one of her arguments to try and make me marry Henry Way Too Many Names To Even List In One Breath.”
“Henry So Many Names He Could Belong In The Museum Of So Many Names.”
“Henry Who Could Break A World Record For Having The Most Names Of Any Person Known To Mankind.”
“Henry Who Would Have To Get Tested For Memory Loss Because All Of A Sudden, He Couldn’t Remember Each Of His One Thousand, One Hundred, And Sixty Two Point Eight Names.”
“The other point two fell off somewhere along the way, and the name was never whole again.”
Taylen’s gray eyes glisten. Sometimes, they look blue, like right now in the hallway. Because the light is on, the sun is coming through the windows, and the bedroom doors are open, so there is some natural glow coming in here too. Or maybe they’re blue because he’s looking at me the way he’s doing, which is a way he’s never looked at me before. It’s as if he’s seeing someone completely different—a part of me he never knew was there.
Well, that would make two of us.
Because I’m pretty sure that’s also how I’m looking at him.
“This is what I like about you,” he rasps, his voice heavy and curling around each word. Gah, that word. Like, not love. Like. He’s never used the word love with me, not even friendship or platonic love, and certainly not to my face. I don’t even know if he can say that word. But then again, I’ve always known that.
I know all the bits about Tay that the rest of the world doesn’t. I know what hurts him, what makes him feel insecure, and what makes him unhappy. I know all the good stuff, but I also know the bad. He knows everything about me too. He knows my parents are clingy people who give me no real life of my own, that I have issues dealing with boundaries, and I’m too passive sometimes, which almost resulted in me ending up in an arranged marriage to a man with a thousand names. He also knows my grandmother has a penchant for haute couture and doesn’t shave, but he’s okay with that. He’s okay with my crazy family and all their faults, and he’s okay with me and all my mistakes, regrets, and the not-so-proud moments of my life. Just like I’m okay with his.