“And you didn’t feel important to Henry?”
“Sometimes I did.” A deep sigh leaves my lungs, knowing this probably won’t make any sense. “What Henry and I had was very convenient for both of us for a lot of the time. At least in the beginning. It worked for me because, at the time, I had just gotten out of a relationship that had hurt me more than I expected it to. So, when we first got together, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Then I grew to want more. But he didn’t.” I laugh sadly. “I remember this one time, about a year into our relationship. I’d asked if he wanted to meet my mom. It had been bugging me that she hadn’t met him yet.”
“He said no?”
“He said no,” I confirm. “I believe I told you he’s not close with his family. He couldn’t grasp why it was so important for me, even when I explained it to him. I brought it up again about six months ago. Told him I thought it was the right next step for us, and how much it meant to me.” The memory of how muchthat conversation sliced me open hits me in the chest. “He still wouldn’t, and he got weird about it. Made me feel likeIwas the weird one for wanting such a thing. Looking back, I think that was probably the first time I really started to realize he could never give me what I wanted. What Ineeded.”
My chest feels flayed open, sharing all of this, but when I glance over at Cope, he’s giving me a look, filled with something like understanding, that makes me feel okay to continue.
“All that to say, it was for the best, and it needed to happen, but it still sucks. Dating someone for so long and having it go nowhere, especially at my age.”
“Because you’re so old,” Cope teases with a chuckle, somehow managing to lighten the mood.
Rolling my eyes, I shove him playfully as I let out a laugh of my own. “That’s not what I meant, asshole.” I glance over at him, the smile on his face brightening his dark eyes. “I’m getting close to thirty. Meaningless dating isn’t as appealing as it was in my early twenties.”
“Well, I’d say I’m sorry it ended, but I’d have to agree, it sounds like it was for the best,” Cope mutters. “I am sorry it’s caused you pain, though.”
“Thank you.” The sincerity in his tone is like a balm to any nerves I was feeling.
“I should probably head back home.” Cope pushes to a stand, and I do the same. “I’ve got an early morning, and it’s getting late.”
“Of course. I’ll walk you out front.” We move in silence around the side of the house, side by side. My whole body tingles with what I want to happen when we part ways. I’m not sure it will, though.
We come to a stop in front of the house. “Thanks for inviting me,” he says softly.
He turns his body so it’s facing mine, and the energy around us shifts as we lock eyes. Butterflies swarm in my stomach, and a light tingling feeling takes over my chest, spreading down my arms until I can feel it in the tips of my fingers. It’s electric, the way he’s looking at me.
It could be all in my head, but I hope not. It feels shitty of me to be craving another man’s kiss when I just told Cope about the ending of my relationship, but I can’t find it in me to care. Especially not when Cope’s hand comes up, palm cupping the side of my face, his thumb rubbing along my cheekbone. Everywhere he touches, it lights up. Leaning into the touch, I stand on bated breath.
Except he doesn’t make any move.
“I want to kiss you, but I won’t. Not yet.” I can’t deny the disappointment flushing through me at his words, but then he continues. “I’ll be respectful of your relationship ending for now, but I need you to know that I plan to make you mine in due time, city boy.”
And with the weight of that declaration in the air, he turns on his heel and walks away into the night while I’m left here, stunned silent. Replaying his words in my head, a smile upturns my lips, so wide I’m thankful that it’s dark enough that if he turned around, he wouldn’t be able to see it.
Did he really say that?
Yes…yes, he did.
After a few minutes, the night’s chill catches up to me, and I head inside. Once I lock up, I meander into the kitchen to grab some water before going to my room for the night. My aunt’s in there, sitting at the counter, scrolling through her phone. She glances up when she sees me, a grin forming on her lips.
“What’s got you smiling like that?” she asks, almost knowingly.
Opening the fridge, I grab a water before closing it. I shake my head. “Nothing,” I lie. “I’ll be in my room watching TV if you need me.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Goodnight, Xan.”
“Night, Auntie.”
With a quick pit stop to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, I head to my room, where I strip down to my boxer briefs, and slide into bed, all while anticipation and a nervous type of excitement swirl through me. By the time I’m settled and have the TV turned on, I grab my phone, noticing a new text notification, the sight spiking my pulse all over again.
Cope: This is probably a long shot, but I’d love if you were able to come to Vegas for NFR. Even if it was only for a few days.
Another one comes in before I have a chance to respond, and it brings a smile to my lips.
Cope: Don’t answer tonight, but please think about it. It could be fun. And I know it may not be possible with your aunt and all, but if you can swing it, I’d love to have you there. Goodnight, city boy.
For the next several hours, I watch TV without ever actually watching anything, a permanent smile on my face as I replay every minute of tonight, from start to finish.
