“Look at me, Connor.” He meets my gaze. “I know who you are, who you’ve always been. You’re a good man. Now, then, tomorrow—you are good down to your bones. It’s what pulled me to you when I was a kid.” A tear slides down my cheek. “It’s why I fell in love with you at eighteen.” Connor takes in a shuddering breath. “And it’s why I haven’t been able to stop loving you since.”
He crushes his mouth against mine, but retreats a moment later. “Baby,goddammit, I was supposed to say it first.”
I arch a brow. “Well, technically, you did.”
Finally, he smiles and the joy that breaks across his face has methrowing myself at him. I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. He catches me effortlessly, hands squeezing the skin where the hem of my shorts hits the backs of my thighs, and he kisses me again.
Without breaking the kiss, Connor spins us to one of the dining chairs. My legs dangle on either side of his hips as his hands rake over me—up and down my bare legs, gliding up my sides, peeking under the hem of my shirt to touch the skin of my stomach and lower back. At last, one of his hands finds mine and he weaves our fingers together.
He grabs a fistful of hair at my back with a gentle tug and my mouth opens for more of him. We taste, we savor, we devour.
When we’ve pulled back to catch our breath, I play with the hair at the back of his neck and ask, “Why’d you pack my suitcase?”
“I got your brother’s message last night and I never heard from you.” He shakes his head, dislodging a memory he’d rather forget. “I didn’t wanna be here when he came for your stuff.”
Suspicion prickles in my mind. “What did Drew’s text say?”
“That you were staying the night there and that he’d be by today to get your things.” My jaw drops. “I assumed that meant?—”
I hurl myself forward, arms around his neck once more. “Oh my God…That’s not…no…” The words get caught at the back of my throat.
I should have been here.
His face in my hands, I let the words spill out. “I swear, Connor, Drew brought my phone back from the restaurant but the battery was dead and he didn’t have a charger because my phone’s a million years old, but so is yours which is why we can share a charger, which is just another reason why I love you. But he refused to talk to me and I refused to leave until he did talk to me which meant I was sleeping on the couch and I asked him to text you to let you know I was staying the night there so you wouldn’t worry. Then I tried to hack into his laptop while he slept so I could email you but I couldn’t figure out his password.”
He grins and I fumble on some more. “I literally ran here this morning and when you weren’t here, I freaked out. I plugged in myphone, found my suitcase by the door and finally saw all your messages right before I texted you back.”
A smile fills his whole face as we both begin to laugh and I slap his arm.
My hands land softly on his chest as the humor fades. “I’m sorry Drew said that to you.” His mouth tics and then settles. “He’s still mad.”
He nods, arms tightening around my waist as he whispers, “I know.”
“We need to give him time.”
The fear of losing his best friend—that he might have already lost him—is a tangible thing on him. Almost like I could reach out and pluck it right off his shirt. If only it were as easy as flicking a piece of lint away.
“I should head back to my parents’ house this weekend. I still need to talk to them.”
He looks over my shoulder toward the bedroom where my previously impeccably packed suitcase now lays open in utter disarray on his bed. “In that case, you could have left your bag packed.”
I shrug. “I had a point to make.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“I think,” I kiss him softly, “I need to do this on my own.”
“I promise I’ll be good.” He jerks his hands away. “See? No hands.”
A laugh bursts out of me.
“Too soon?” Connor jests before he links his arms at my back again, pulling me in for another swift kiss. “When do you leave for your interview?”
Time slows and I let my gaze fall to the gap of space between our bodies. “I fly out Monday.” His fingers slide under my shirt. “If I make it to the second round, I’ll have to stay through Thursday.” His hands run up my sides. “And if I get the job, I should probably stay through next weekend to look for an apartment.”
“You’re gonna get it, Gretch,” he breathes, words landing in a soft puff on my cheek.
Moving to New York means leaving Illinois. It means leavingmy family. It means leaving Connor. We could do the long-distance thing, but to what end? Until I’ve had my fill of Manhattan? Until we miss each other so much we have no choice but to end things?
