Last night, she got up from my couch well after midnight, intent on driving home. But I asked her to stay with me, no expectations. Just so I could wake up next to her. Like the night of the wedding. When she said yes, crawled into my bed, and placed her head on my chest, I almost crumpled with the relief of it.
Now, morning sunshine arcs through the windows, past curtains I forgot to draw closed, falling on Finley, making her skin look golden. She looks like every dream I’ve ever had, and it makes my throat tight. I want to wake up like this every single morning for the rest of my life. I want warm skin and sleepy breaths fanning against my neck. I want bedhead and tangled sheets and reaching for each other in sleep and her form to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes. I want it all with her.
Her eyelids flutter, long blond lashes fanning her cheeks, so pale at the ends that you can only see them from this close. Ishould look away so she doesn’t know I was staring, but I can’t, and when she opens her eyes, gaze landing on mine, I’m glad I didn’t.
Her lips curl in the sleepiest, softest of smiles, making my heart pound in my throat. Slowly, so slowly that I truly can’t tell whether I’m dreaming or awake, she kisses me.
My world grows hazy around the edges at the first touch of her lips. Panic seizes me. For a moment, I’m sure I really am dreaming again.
I must tense up, because Finley pulls back, her eyes growing more alert. She sits up, hovering over me. “Grey?”
I’ve had this dream before. Waking up from it hurts. But I have to know.
“Am I dreaming?”
The concern on her face softens, melting into tenderness, and she closes the gap between us once more. I can feel her lips against mine, her breath warm against my face as she says, “No, Grey. This is real.”
“I dream of this a lot.” I don’t know what makes me say it, why I choose to bare my soul to her right now, in my bed the morning after telling her how I feel. But I’m so raw, too raw to pretend anymore that this isn’t exactly what I want, exactly what I’ve been dreaming of for so long.
Eyes the color of warm honey fix on mine and hold. “You do?”
At my nod, her hands slip up my chest, smooth skin against hard muscle. Goose bumps follow in the wake of her touch, showing her just how affected I am by her. There’s no sense in hiding anything now, so I say, “All the time.”
She must hear the anguish in my voice, because she doesn’t smile, doesn’t tease. Instead, she sits up, sheets pooling around her waist. She’s still in my clothes, and seeing her in them does funny things to my chest.
Her hands find mine, and she tugs, urging me to sit up too, so I do. And when my back is propped against the headboard, she shocks me again by climbing into my lap, her arms wrapping around my middle, her head coming to rest over my rapidly beating heart.
“This is real,” she murmurs into my skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Now that she’s here, now that she’smine, I know I’m not going anywhere either.
“You should advertise the bookstore here,” I tell Finley a few hours later as we wander the aisles of the farmers’ market hand in hand.
She arches her brows at me. “What bookstore?”
“Yourbookstore,” I answer pointedly.
“I don’t have a bookstore,” she says, her eyes darting away from mine as she stops at a stall to inspect pints of strawberries.
“Yet.”
I don’t miss the way she keeps her gaze focused elsewhere as she says, “Maybe not ever. I don’t think I’m going to do it.”
My knees bend so I can move into her eye line, effectively making her meet my eyes. “Why not? You’d be great at it.”
Her shoulders heave in a heavy sigh. “But what if I’m not? Everyone in this town would be watching me, expecting great things.” She hesitates, her voice growing small. “I don’t want to let them down.”
“Finley,” I say, equal parts tender and firm. It finally makes her give me her full attention, and my hand leaves hers to settle on her shoulders. They’re small beneath my large hands, and they’re warm from baking in the summer sunshine, frecklesblooming over her skin. “I have lots of experience being a disappointment, and you could never be that.”
“Grey,” she sighs, looking pained.
I stop her by gently squeezing her shoulders. “No, this isn’t about me. I just want you to know that no matter what you do, you’re not going to disappoint the people in this town. If you decided to start a cult that worships a lizard king, everyone would be proud of your ingenuity.”
She sighs, her breath fanning against my face, her gaze focusing on something over my shoulder. With her head turned slightly away, I can see the muscle feathering in her tight jaw, the pulse pounding at the base of her neck. “Don’t you see how much pressure that is? To know that everyone expects great things of you, that they have unwavering faith in your abilities? It makes failing feel even worse.” Her voice catches at the end of that statement, and I canfeelvulnerability pulsing off her in waves.
I want to fix it for her. I want to tell her that I believe in her, that she can do anything she puts her mind to. All the things I wanted my parents to say to me. But I see now how that can be damaging too. That it can make failure seem like it’s not an option.
So instead, I nod, bending down so she can’t avoid my eyes any longer. “You’re right,” I say on a huff of a surprised laugh. “That’s terrifying”
