I gaped at the fading footprints on my bathmat, wondering if that was all that was left of Beckett. The tightness in my chest that had kept me awake last night was back with a vengeance. I wandered to the kitchen counter and picked up my copy ofHeaven on Earth.I flipped it open to see that Beckett had signed it for me. I dropped the book and picked up another one. He’d signed it too. And now, he was gone.
I went back to the bed and slipped under the covers, jerking them up to my neck.
Beckett had just proven me right. I’d never been so sorry to be right.
For a hot second I’d thought maybe love did exist outside of romance novels, but Beckett’s absence punched a hole in that theory.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to focus. Maybe this was a good thing.
I didn’t have room for a man like Beckett in my life. He was too massive, too consuming.
And he was a cuddler. I hated cuddling. The only thing I cuddled up with in my bed was a book.
Last night Beckett had clamped his big hand around my waist and trapped me against his hard chest, his muscular thighs wedged behind mine. He’d even drifted into my dreams after I’d finally fallen to sleep.
I hadn’t been able to move all night. And now I was sore all over, cramped from being tucked inside Beckett’s big spoon.
Now that he was gone, I could finally breathe. I spread my heavy arms and legs across the bed and stretched, only to discover that I was sore in other places too. There was an ache between my thighs and a throb in my chest.
He’d made me believe him last night. I’d lain there, surrounded by his warmth, reluctantly accepting his gift of love, only to have it snatched away at first light.
I choked on a sob. Beckett was gone, and I was going to have to accept it. But this time I’d put on my big girl panties and deal with it. This time, I would not run. I might not have Beckett, but I had Mossy Oak. I didn’t have to give up Mossy Oak. This town had Aslan, the Blue Ridge Book Club, and the best damn bookshop in the world. For the first time in years, wanderlust didn’t breathe down my neck. I would stay here and thrive. I wouldn’t give in to fear and run.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the metal stairs outside my apartment, and a moment later, the doorknob rattled. The door swung open, and Beckett pushed inside carrying a drink tray. He had a paper bag with a grease stain spreading across the bottom clamped in his mouth. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he pulled the bag from his mouth.
“Mocha latte, right?” he asked.
They were the sweetest words I’d ever heard.
Even though his hair was a little rumpled and he was wearing last night’s clothes, Beckett managed to look like he’d just strolled out of a casual business meeting.
“I brought muffins, and something that looks sort of like a crushed ear, but she swore it was—,” He stopped abruptly, bracing himself as I launched myself at him.
I crushed my mouth to his, unable to contain my enthusiasm. “You came back,” I said.
Beckett dropped the bag and wrapped his free arm around me, the coffee tray balanced precariously in his outstretched hand. “What’d you expect?” he asked between kisses. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled him close, kissing him with a hunger that threatened to consume us both. He kissed me back, matching my eagerness. He walked me into the kitchen and put the drink tray down so he could put both arms around me.
I pulled back to look at him, completely overwhelmed by my feelings. I needed space. I needed time. I needed… I reached up for his mouth.
I needed Beckett.
Chapter 34
We lay on our backs in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Beckett’s arm was under my head, his thick bicep the perfect pillow. His fingers toyed with mine, typing softly across from my thumb to my pinky and back. I dozed in and out of a satisfied sleep.
“Are you going to the event at Hyperbole’s tomorrow?” I turned to face him and ran my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.
“No.” He curved his hand around my hip and bent to kiss the crook of my neck. He hadn’t shaved yet this morning, and the scruff of his beard was rough against my skin.
“Why not?”
“I never go to those things.” He nibbled my neck, lips moving up to my ear.
I shivered and pulled away. “Don’t you want to meet your fans?”
“Nope.”
