It takes me a long moment to catch my breath after he’s stopped reading. I probably look like a mess, crying like someone has died.
Whereas in reality, I don’t think a night has been more alive. More fraught with electricity, emotions and energy.
I forgave him a long time ago for everything. He didn’t need to apologize but I’ll forever carry his words in my heart.
I’ll accept them and keep them safe, just as I’ll keep him safe inside my chest.
“W-When did you write this?” I manage to ask after a while.
Zach’s wiping off my tears and tucking my newly-colored hair behind my ear. “I’ve been writing it a long time. Probably when you decided to give me a chance.” My eyes go wide at his answer. “Earlier versions sounded dumb.”
I snort. “Oh please. Nothing you say to me can sound dumb. Except, one thing.”
“What?”
I kiss him first and cross my ankles at the small of his back. “You’ve always been the prince I think you are.”
He smiles against my lips. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. You know what that means, right?”
“What?”
“You’re going to have to marry me now.”
“Is that right?”
“Yup. You promised. I have it in writing.”
He kisses me again, pressing our bodies so close together that we breathe as one. “Stage-five clinger.”
“You like it.”
I deepen our kiss, then.
His taste floods my mouth and all I can do is hold on to him. When his lips move to my jaw, traveling down to my neck, I tell him, “I want you to kiss me. The way you like it.”
He groans into my skin and lowers my feet to the ground.
Staring into my eyes, he comes down on his knees. “Be careful what you wish for, Blue.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer as his mouth falls on my bare belly and he starts working on my buttons.
Moaning, I arch my neck up and look at the stars again. They are beautiful and breath-taking, as always. But like every night, I search for the brightest of the bunch.
When I find them – two of them, in fact, I name them: Zachariah and Cleopatra.
After that, I close my eyes and lose myself in his kiss on my core.
***
She calls me a prince and herself, Cinderella.
I agree.
She’s my Cinderella. Except in our story, Cinderella saves the prince.
I meant every word that I wrote; she saved me when I least deserved it. She saved me from my past and my anger. She made me realize that I was powerful enough to move on. That the past doesn’t define me. I define myself. I make my own future.