Oh, I have to pull way back in the memory banks. I’ve visited Ramona in Europe a few times. “It’s hazy, but if I said tall, dark, and handsome, I’d be close?”
She shifts on her high heel and fidgets with an oversized bracelet.
“Why do I need to remember him?”
“So, he’s here. In Colorado. We reconnected after the funeral in Italy and he wanted to visit me. I didn’t tell you because it felt kind of weird. Having Vin at my place and I knew what you would think.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait, don’t tell me. I’dthinkexactly whatisgoing on between you two, and you’d hate that,” I clap back. “Close?”
“Well, yeah, kind of. We hit it off and well, things are progressing along. It’s weird, I admit, but he makes me feel better.” Telling her she is quite possibly only masking the pain won’t be comfortable, but I’m in the camp that whatever works for you, is perfect.
Furrowing my brow, I ask, “Where the hell does he go when I come over?” I remember the time I had to hide in Lincoln’s closet and wince. “Does he hide from me?”
“No, no. Of course not, but Maeve, you’re predictable. You come over the same time every day and he leaves before you come over.”
I pull back, a little offended, but also happy because this is big progress. “Is it too soon? I hate asking because I always hated when people asked when or if I would be ready to date. You’re okay up here?” I tap her head with my pointer finger lightly. “I want you to be happy. I, out of all people, would never judge you. You could have told me.”
Ramona twirls a gaudy ring on her middle finger. “I was still judging myself, because he’s Stavros’ cousin. I needed some time to figure out where my head was.” Her gaze locks on mine. “And he makes me happy, so I’m over worrying about timelines or what his family members might think. I have to live my life.”
I tear up a little. She’s mastered a thing that took my entire life to understand. Life is short, and you only have one shot. “If he’s not worried about what his family members will think, neither should you. I’m happy for you.” Hugging her softly so I don’t mess up her hair, I remind her that I love her.
Her smile is sweet when she pulls back and swallows hard. “I also didn’t tell you because I know how long it took you to move on, and well, it felt almost lewd and disrespectful.”
I swat her shoulder. “Since when do you care about hurting my feelings?”
She sucks in a deep breath, and her eyes flit to someone behind me. “Since you finally seem to be on the right track, Maeve.” I turn my head to follow her line of vision and see Lincoln. “Why don’t you guys get out of here?” I told her about our plans to head up to the mountains when we arrived. “You sold a painting. You’ve earned your keep.”
I eye her warily. “Are you sure? You don’t need help?”
“With what? I have one more night and well, Vin is on his way. He’ll take me home.”
“As your best friend, I should probably wait and talk to him before I leave.”
Ramona folds her arms across her chest. “There will be plenty of time for that. By the way that man is eyeing you down, he seems to be in a hurry. Go have fun.”
A well-dressed woman pardons herself for cutting into our conversation to ask Ramona about a piece of artwork. Politely, I excuse myself and wind my way around a group of people to find Lincoln. He’s standing under a spotlight, hands tucked in his pocket, with his back straight—debonair, exceptionally handsome. My next breath lodges in my throat as I admire him, and I forget we’re not alone. It feels that way right now. Like we’re the only two people who exist, and our sole purpose on Earth is to have each other. Lightning striking me down right now would have a lesser effect on me. I take one more step toward him. Now I’m standing in the light with him.
Tilting my face up to see his shadowy one, I say, “Ramona said I can take off. If you’re ready.”
Lincoln exhales loudly. He, too, was holding his breath as I approached. Butterflies flap in my stomach and I feel lightheaded. He grabs my upper arms. “I thought you’d never ask. Need to do anything before we exit stage left?”
I shake my head. There’s a back room where I stashed my purse and jacket. I wiggle my fingers at Ramona when I catch her eye, and Lincoln follows me into the room. As soon as the heavy door clicks shut, he’s on me—his hands on my wrists, backing me up to the wall.
“Watching you without being able to touch you, have you,” he says, neck working to swallow. “Was more torturous than anything I’ve had to endure. Watching other men look at you and know without a shadow of doubt they want you was too much.”
I lose my breath. “I’m yours, Lincoln. I’ve been yours since the day we met.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like that.”
He’s feeling insecure in the weird space we’re in right now. If only he knew how much I loved him. What I’d do to keep him safe, maybe he would understand that I will never belong to anyone else the way I belong to him. I tip my chin up to seek out his kiss, but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting, and breathing, and trying to suck my soul with a mere look. I say his name in a whisper, but his grip tightens on my wrists and his restraint wanes. I lick my lips and his gaze flicks to them.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” I say. “I’m yours in all ways. Mind, body, and soul. I’m sorry if anything I’ve said or done has given you a different impression.”
Lincoln slants his mouth over mine and silences me with a kiss I feel throughout my body. Even my core clenches with need at the rush he gives me. He groans when I slip my tongue into his mouth to slide against his. The heat from his body seeps through his shirt and jacket and envelops me. This is the feeling people would die for. Because it’s in moments like these that I can actually feel how much Lincoln loves me. I lived most of my life without the feeling, so it hits me hard and swift. Denying it would be foolish and like my friend just taught me, life is short. Live harder than the blows dealt your way.
His whole body is hungry. His grip loosens and I pull away from his hands to grab his face and neck. Lincoln’s hands float to my hips. The kiss slows, and his teeth knock against mine. I feel his breaths pushing against my chest. My lips sting from the intensity of his mouth and they feel swollen. He pulls back, but I keep my hands resting on the sides of his face.
“That feels like you’re mine,” he says, tone low.