“What?” she asks, half-laughing. “Why are you just standing there staring at me like that?”
Love hooks a hand on her hip, her nails still painted the same shade of dusty rose that she wore all week for the wedding, and I’m instantly taken back to the night of the reception, dancing until the very last song when her feet were so sore she had to carry her heels, but she refused to stop because she said it was one of the best nights of her life.
Dragging in a ragged breath, I run my hand through my hair and shrug.
One more day.
I’m a selfish bastard and I want one more day of this.
One more day to hold her, to hear her voice, to kiss those berry soft lips.
Love moves to my side, slips her hands gentle around mine, and pulls me toward the door. I grab my keys and wallet from the console in the foyer and follow her out the door. As soon as I’m finished locking up, Love wraps her arms around me from behind. The sensation of her cheek pressed against my back as her arms hold me tight nearly takes my breath away, and when she finally releases me, I turn to face her.
“Overcompensating much?” I ask.
She smirks. “Just making up for lost time.”
“It was just one day.” I pretend it didn’t matter to me, that I didn’t spend every waking second of those twenty-four hours wondering about her.
“Didn’t make me miss you any less.” Love slides her hand into mine and we head for the elevator, and within minutes we’re strolling along Fifth Avenue hand in hand like it’s any other summer day.
We pass one of Love’s favorite coffee shops and she pulls me inside, ordering my usual before I have a chance to protest. Caffeine is the last thing I need. I already can’t sleep as it is.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the iced coffee from her hands. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s the little things, Jude,” she says. “And you’re the one who’s shown me that.”
“I have?”
Her golden-brown gaze locks onto mine as we walk and the corner of her mouth lifts. “Why do you act so surprised? You’re always doing things for me. You’re probably one of the most selfless men I’ve ever met.”
A lump lodges itself in my throat, but I swallow until it subsides.
“It feels like a dream … being with you.” Love slides her dainty hand into the bend of my elbow and sighs. “And I never want to wake up.”
I keep my eyes trained ahead. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s smiling. Her exuberance is palpable, radiant and more blinding than the sun. Leading her on for another twenty-four hours would only be adding another layer of cruelty to this shit sandwich.
“Love …” I say, chest tightening as I try to force the words out. For a second, they get stuck, and I have to take a moment to breathe, to compose my thoughts. “Could we go some—”
The pull on my arm tells me she isn’t paying attention, and a second later, she’s dragging me into some pop-up museum called The Future Is Now on 77th.
“I’ve been hearing about this,” she says. “Everyone says it’s amazing. Want to go?”
We’re already here …
“Sure,” I say. Love leads me inside, and I get us two tickets at the front desk and the woman behind the counter offers us two headsets for the self-guided tour.
We spend the next two hours immersed in futuristic technology and displays of what scientists are predicting life to be like in the next twenty, fifty, and hundred years as the pre-recorded tour guide explains what we’re looking at.
Toward the end of the experience, Love yanks her headset off and slides my arm over her shoulders. I pull my headset down, resting around my neck as she looks up at me with sparkling eyes full of life.
“I love this stuff,” she says. “I love thinking about what comes next. All the possibilities … all the different directions we can go.” Love exhales, resting her cheek against my chest. “Anything is possible, right?”
Clearing my throat, I concur. “Right.”
“I don’t know about you, but this place gets me really excited for the future.”
Thirty-One
Love
* * *
Jude’s fingers rake through my hair as I lie in his lap, a throw blanket pulled up to my shoulders. We’re catching up on The Leftovers at my place and every so often, I find myself forgetting that this isn’t real because it feels like it did before.
But the truth changes everything.
And the truth doesn’t let you forget for long.
Glancing up, I study the underside of his chiseled jaw before lifting my hand to cup his face. As soon as he feels the warmth of my palm, he glances down at me, smiling, but there’s something missing in his eyes.
He’s been quiet today. Withdrawn.
We started out with a coffee and an impromptu trip to a museum followed by brunch and a matinee before heading back to my place to cool off once the afternoon sun took full effect.
The shades are drawn, the lights are low, but he hasn’t so much as tried to make a move on me. Last time we tried watching this show together, we had to stop and rewind the show halfway through every episode because we were so focused on each other that we weren’t paying attention to the storyline.
Maybe I’m coming on too strong?
Maybe he thinks he has to pull back a little and keep that perfect equilibrium between us in order for his little scheme to work?
“One more?” he asks when the credits begin to roll.
It’s the third episode we’ve watched today, and I’m beginning to get sleepy from sitting in a cool, dark apartment all afternoon, but I nod.
I’m going to smother him with togetherness.
After all, that’s what he wants right? He wants me to be smitten with him, to be madly in love, to never want to leave his side until after he walks me down the aisle.
Halfway into the next episode, my lids are anchored and I’m fighting to stay awake. Jude’s fingers stroke lightly through my hair, tickling my scalp, and it all but puts me in a trance. Allowing my eyes to close, I succumb to the gentle nap that’s been calling my name since I first lay down.
Turns out pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting and the day is finally catching up to me.
I wake to the sensation of Jude’s arms scooping beneath my shoulders and lifting my limp arm around his shoulder. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but a slitted glance toward the windows shows me it’s already night.
“Shh,” he says.
“Why are you carrying me to bed?” My voice is soft, half of me still planted in a dreamlike state.
He says nothing, only deposits me on the left side of the mattress, tugging the covers up to my chest and adjusting the pillows behind my head.
“Are you leaving?” I ask, growing more awake by the second.
My room is dark, and all I can make out is the shuffle of Jude’s feet against my hardwood floor, followed by the soft rumple of clothes falling.
“No,” he says, almost whispering. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A moment later, he slides in beside me, the heat of his body making its way to me before he does. When his arm slinks around my stomach, he pulls me against him. His skin is hot to the touch, his breath warm on the back of my neck. Our bodies meld together, forming a perfect S where every part of him is cemented to every part of me. And then he holds me tighter. Tighter than before. Like he doesn’t want to let me go.