We fall back down to the bed and kiss until our lips are swollen. I keep my hands above her waist. Sweet. Gentle. Her face rests next to mine on the pillow, and I trace my fingers over her widow’s peak, the curve of her cheek. “This is crazy. I should be exhausted, but you’re here, and I’m not.”
Her lashes drop, her voice fading. “Hmm, you’re not sleepy?”
“I’m half-afraid you might disappear.” The words are barely a whisper, and I’m not sure she hears.
I watch the slow rise of her chest as she drifts off. I’m in deep with her, and I’ve got no idea where we’re going.
My fear?
This is gonna hurt when it’s over.
Chapter 14
TUCK
I wake up a few hours later, my arm curled around her waist. I kiss her shoulder and head for the shower. I pass by the sketch of Wickham and don’t realize I’m smiling until I glance in the mirror. I blink. Fuck. When’s the last time I woke up looking forward to the day? A damn long time.
I bought the sketch around nine years ago, after the death of my father and when my mother went missing. Some of those days are blurry, cloudy, as if I were stoned. The truth is I was hurt and lost. Still, I put on my smile and played football. Pretending. I feel like shit for the women I went through in those years. And just when I was starting to find my footing, my mom showed up for help.
The hot water spills over me, and I hum Bia’s “Can’t Touch This” as it plays on the shower speaker. I dance. Shake my ass. And when “Come and Get Your Love,” by Redbone, comes on, I’m singing.
“Wahoo! Can I join the party?” Francesca says as she sashays into the room, wearing nothing but my mask from Decadence. Her dark hair is mussed, her lips curled in a pouty smile. I laugh, the sound layered with joy and liberation.
With her hand on her hip, she blows a kiss at me. “Hey, sexy pantyhose slayer. Wanna open the door and let me in?”
“Hell yeah.”
She removes the mask, puts it on the counter, and then giggles as she darts into my arms. I gaze down at her, and clarity tingles over me. She gets me and accepts me, and shekissedme. I know what that means. She’s all in—and it doesn’t even scare me right now.
Was it fate or coincidence that we met on my birthday, the anniversary of my dad’s death? Don’t know, but she feels right.
Like a gift from the heavens to make up for the bad shit.
Herman opens the door for us at Wickham. “You two look happy.”
We murmur our hellos, then smile at each other.
“Okay, so what’s the surprise today?” I ask as we get in the elevator. After our shower, she said she wanted to show me something today but wouldn’t say what.
“There’s no fun in telling you. First, I need to put on warm clothes, ’kay? Ones that fit me.”
She’s wearing a pair of my sweats rolled under at the waist a few times and a baggy Pythons sweatshirt. I’m wearing a thick cream fisherman sweater and jeans. I feel ready to take on the world.
The elevator door opens as Darden comes out of his apartment.
“Good morning,” I say, and he grunts, his craggy face flattening.
“Are you two just getting in?” He glares at Francesca’s clothes.
Francesca nods, her voice demure. “Yes, Mr.Darden.”
He harrumphs. “Did any talking get done?”
“Uh, yeah?” I say uncertainly at his tone. I don’t know what he’s referring to, but perhaps Francesca has confided in him about us?
Francesca waves him off. “You look handsome today. Where are you headed, Mr.Darden?”
He points his cane at her. “Where do you think? Widow Crane has blackmailed me into her ridiculous book club. I’m going. A prisoner of war.”